Lullaby
by Cris
Summary: Under duress, the Cullens agree to foster Chief Swan's teenage daughter while he battles her deadbeat mother for custody. But Bella has a dark past that will follow her to Forks, forcing her to fight for the new life she has been given. Vampires.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hi, duckies! I promised this to readers of ACAP, and here it is. This is what was originally supposed to be the darker twin storyline of ACAP, but I've reimagined and expanded it into its own story. Just a warning, it will be MUCH darker and MUCH more graphic than anything else I've posted here. But there will be a happy ending; I'm a sucker for happy endings! My inspiration came from Shawn Mullins' song "Lullaby" as well as some of the dark, depressing essays of the incomparable Joan Didion. _

_All standard disclaimers apply._

**Lullaby**

Once in a while it was nice to get away, Edward thought. It was nice to indulge Alice and head to a place where beautiful people congregated, where they could walk the strips of bustling nightclubs and shiny shops, the reverberating thud of heavy bass buzzing in their bones, and feel...not connected, exactly, but not as out-of-place as usual. L.A. was not normally overcast enough for them to visit, but this February there were a string of cloudy days and storms, and Alice, having seen this, insisted that it was time to take a trip to the city of angels. She and Rosalie planned several days' worth of shopping along the exclusive strips of Beverly Hills and several nights' worth of dancing in the best clubs. Jasper and Emmett went along because they always went along, because they could deny their wives nothing, and because it got them out of school. Emmett didn't mind high school as much as the others did - he rather liked intimidating the boys there, in fact - but Jasper loathed it almost as much as Edward himself did. The time he spent with Maria, and then later as a nomad, made it harder on him to pretend to be a high school kid. It rankled at times, and though he was generally a calm individual, sometimes the facade of youth was just too much to handle. At times like these, he was more than happy to accompany Alice to Beverly Hills, or Paris, Monaco, or Tokyo - wherever she wanted to go, really - where the young and beautiful came to throw money around in a listless explosion of ennui.

Edward had to admit that he also enjoyed these excursions, and his reasons were similar. When they traveled amongst Hollywood's starlets or Monte Carlo's young heirs and heiresses, they blended better than they did anywhere else. Occasionally Rose or Alice would find photos of themselves inside the next issue of whatever tabloid had had photographers around, and they would giggle as the captions questioned who these beautiful people were. It was a good thing, Edward mused as he followed Alice and Jasper along a wide boulevard in the Hollywood Hills, the cloudy day slowly turning into night, that humans had got it wrong and vampires really did show up in photographs and mirrors. If not, with all the paparazzi littering this city, it wouldn't be safe for them to show themselves. People who took photos for a living tended to shoot with impunity when they saw a beautiful face. Seeing five at once, well...it was like expecting a werewolf to remain calm while you hurled insults at him, if you expected a paparazzo not to snap pictures as the Cullens sauntered up Rodeo Drive.

"Edward?" Alice's voice was tentative, which was not normal for her. He glanced at his baby sister. They were the closest pair of siblings in the family, but there was still distance between them. Edward felt distance from all his family members - even his erstwhile parents, at times - and he knew they all felt that it was because he was the only single among a family of couples. He wasn't sure that was the entire problem, though he was willing to admit that it did likely play a part. He was over a hundred years old now, and he had no idea what love was like. Not in the first person, anyway. He glimpsed it around him daily, in the happiness his brothers and father shared with their mates. It wasn't something he could relate to, though. Idly he wondered if there really _was_ someone out there for him.

"Edward, are you listening? Would you do me a favor?"

He knew better than to say 'anything,' like Jasper would, but he let one side of his mouth slide up into the smallest hint of a smile as Alice drew him out of his depressing thoughts. "Depends."

"Don't ask any questions," she said. "Just...it's too early to go clubbing, and I have a couple more stores I want to check out before they close, but we're supposed to meet Rose and Emmett really soon. They left their phones at the hotel, so I can't call them. Would you mind terribly heading to the rendezvous spot and telling them Jasper and I'll be a little late?"

Edward grit his teeth, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't that he minded Alice's request - everyone knew he couldn't stand shopping, with or without his little whirlwind of a sister. But she was carefully shielding her thoughts from him, which meant she was hiding something. Which meant, of course - knowing Alice - that she was scheming. And an Alice scheme was something he wanted no part of. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded, knowing it would do no good but still resolved to try.

"Just trust me this once, will you?" Alice batted her eyelashes, smiling in a way that always got her what she wanted with Jasper, but it had no effect on Edward.

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Just...where am I supposed to meet them?"

She let the address filter through the wall in her mind, and he nodded. It was a bar they'd frequented in the seventies, and liked. Apparently someone was feeling nostalgic.

"Thank you, Edward!" Alice said. "You won't regret this, I promise!"

Edward shared a glance with his Southern brother. Jasper didn't know what was going on, either. He lifted his mouth in a smile of commiseration before Alice turned him around and guided him back down the street. "We'll be there in a couple of hours!" she called over her shoulder to Edward. He saluted lazily and turned the other way, back toward the car.

The air was warm and slightly humid, and Edward breathed it in as he walked the thinning crowds, people parting to make way and closing behind him again. They did it subconsciously - not like they would for a known actor or musician. It was their fear reflex, the deep instinct of a prey animal sensing a predator, that made them do it. Edward grimaced inwardly. If these tourists remembered him at all, it would be as a beautiful face, the features indistinct and unclear, as their small memories could not process all of what he was. They would assume he was an actor or model, someone unknown to them but clearly of importance. Clearly someone who belonged.

Little did they know how wrong they were.

Edward slid behind the wheel of the rental Mustang. It had been Alice's choice and he didn't particularly care for it. He preferred European craftsmanship over American muscle, but this was Alice's vacation and he was only here to catch a break from school and the small-town intensity that was Forks. It was tiring, often, being the only interesting thing in a small town full of dull people living dull lives. He revved the engine, pulling out of his parking spot and heading out of the Hills, down toward the address Alice had given him.

He was a little surprised to find his mind returning to the same thoughts that had been revolving in his head earlier. He loved his family - looked up to Carlisle, adored Esme, and enjoyed the company of his siblings - but lately he'd been wondering if that was really enough to content himself with for a near-eternal lifespan. He hadn't had a choice about being changed, and that was one thing he shared with Rose - the wish for a normal human life, the one thing they could never have. Rose was angry about her change for a long time, while Edward had not been mad...resigned, perhaps, he thought now. He glanced at a family of tourists strolling along outside a strip mall, the two little girls clutching ice cream cones and giggling as their father scratched his head over a tourist map. _That's_ what he had wanted, when he was a seventeen-year-old boy, before his family had succumbed to the outbreak of Spanish flu. There had been no particular girls he wanted to court, but he wanted that ideal family life, the life his parents and aunts and uncles had: children, a house, a smiling wife. Oh, he'd had other goals. He was on his way to Yale, in fact, before the flu hit. But becoming a lawyer or businessman like his father and uncles had taken second place in his heart, behind the wish for a family of his own.

Now, of course, there was no way he could ever have that family he'd wished for back then, so he'd buried the dream. He _could_ still have a mate - a wife - someone to share this eternal life with. But so far the right girl hadn't revealed herself. The daughters of their sister coven in Denali were pretty enough, he supposed, but they didn't make him feel what he thought he was supposed to feel for a mate. Certainly he did not love any of them, especially Tanya, the strawberry blonde who just would not take a hint and leave him alone. There _had _to be someone better out there, didn't there? Edward buried a sigh. He refused to sound like some woebegone fairy tale prince mooning over love, no matter how lonely this city made him feel.

Briefly, he considered cutting his trip short and returning to Forks. Carlisle had stayed behind to work, and Esme was in Vancouver for the week, consulting on the refurbishment of a block of old rowhouses. She loved British Columbia, and Edward suspected they might soon find another residence there, added to the rest of the Cullen manses.

But, no. If he left early, Alice would demand a reason. And he couldn't give her one. Edward made a left-hand turn onto the correct street and glanced at the address numbers. Six blocks to go. There was nothing so horrible about this vacation. It wasn't worse than any other they'd taken. He had no reason to skip out.

His phone suddenly buzzed on the center console, and Edward shot a glance toward it. A text from Alice. "Don't you dare," it read. He made a face. Of course she'd see him flirt with the decision to go home. She also likely knew perfectly well that he wouldn't really do it. She just liked to meddle, and most of the time it didn't bother him. She was his sister, and it was part of her personality.

Edward pulled into an empty parking spot two blocks from the bar where he was supposed to meet Rose and Emmett. Since Alice confirmed that it was going to be cloudy all day, Emmett had begged and begged to go to Disneyland. Nobody else wanted to - no roller coaster could compare with the speeds they could reach running, anyway - but Rose had indulged him. That was the sort of thing he wished he could find in a girl for himself, he thought idly as he stepped out of the car and locked it. This wasn't the sort of place where a car would likely be stolen, but it was a reflex action.

Edward pulled open the door of the Willow Bar, slipping from outdoor twilight to indoor dimness. This place was kind of a dive, he remembered as he glanced around, but it was also cleaner than most, and the ancient man behind the bar didn't care how long they sat with their drinks as long as they tipped well. Alcohol was one thing vampires _could_ sip, as long as they did so sparingly. It would never get them drunk, but it evaporated quickly in their systems. That was why Alice and Rose preferred nightclubs and bars to daytime restaurants. Nobody thought it was strange to see a group of people holding drinks and talking or dancing, and they didn't have to explain away the fact that they did not eat.

Glancing around, Edward noted that the place looked the same as it had the last time they were here, decades ago. He was willing to bet that the old man behind the bar was the same old man, too. It was even possible that the two or three drunks scattered around the place were the same drunks; he understood that tipplers tended to have emotional attachments to their watering holes. Rosalie and Emmett weren't here yet, so Edward went to the bar to order a drink before settling in to wait.

"ID?" the bartender asked, raising one bushy white eyebrow in Edward's direction. Edward knew perfectly well that he didn't look twenty-one, but it still irked him a little when these men and women, decades younger than himself, insisted on seeing ID. He pulled the Washington State driver's license out of his pocket, the one that claimed that he was twenty-two. The man glanced back and forth between Edward and his photo several times before handing it back to him with a sigh. "What'll it be?"

"Double rye," Edward said at random, glancing at the bottles on the wall behind the bar.

"On the rocks?"

"No."

Collecting his glass of golden-brown liquid, Edward turned and scanned the room again. It was small and dark, and almost everything in the place was dull brown. Solid wooden tables littered the floor, and uncomfortable-looking booths lined two walls. Several men who looked like regulars sat alone here and there, and one younger couple sat in a corner booth, engrossed in each other.

A flash of movement caught Edward's eye - it wasn't a big movement, but Edward turned his head and saw a girl who looked far too young to be in a bar huddled in a booth, a pile of books and a laptop next to her, along with an untouched basket of fries and a half-full pint glass.

She had turned a page in an open book; that's what Edward had seen. He wrinkled his brow in confusion as he stared at her. Nothing about this picture seemed right. Here was a young girl with her schoolbooks sitting in a bar, her head lowered over an open page, as if she were at a library or Starbucks or something like that. He turned his head, about to ask the bartender what was going on with her, but he swallowed the words quickly and instead took a seat where he could study her unobtrusively. She had long dark hair that shone when a stray gleam in the dim room caught it, and her pale skin almost glowed against the dark background of the booth. She raised her head suddenly, her attention caught by something on the mute television behind the bar, and Edward forgot to breathe.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life.

Her face made her look older than he'd thought at first - not old enough to be sitting in a bar, still, but older than he'd first assumed. His initial guess had been fourteen or so, but now he raised her age a couple of years. Her sweet face was heart-shaped and delicate, her cheekbones sweeping almost like wings across her face. Her lips were full and sweetly pink, and her eyes - her _eyes_! Edward didn't know what to think when he saw her eyes. They were dark, like her hair, and shadowed with old pain. If he hadn't been sitting, he'd have fallen to his knees at the sight of those eyes, eyes too old for that pretty young face. He glanced at the television screen quickly, but it was just a ball game - nothing that ought to make her look like that. Gazing at her again, Edward shook his head mentally. No, the pain in her eyes was old. It had long since festered, feeding on itself, building scar tissue in her emotions and her mind. Whatever it was, it was something this young girl didn't know how to deal with. He felt an upsurge of sudden anger toward whomever had caused that pain. It wasn't fair for someone so young to be forced to endure whatever had happened to her.

Edward felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the mysterious girl. "Yes?"

"You're welcome," Alice sang happily in his ear.

Edward frowned. "What am I thanking you for?"

"Isn't she there?"

"Rose?"

"No!" Alice snapped. "Bella! Isn't she there?"

Edward glanced around the room again, his eyes falling on the girl in the booth. She had dropped her head back to her books and continued to huddle at the far end of her seat. "I don't know any Bella," he said.

Alice groaned. "You're impossible! Edward, is there a girl there with dark hair and big brown eyes?"

_The biggest, most beautiful brown eyes_, Edward thought. "Yes," was all he said out loud.

"Have you talked to her yet?"

"Of course not," Edward said disgustedly. "What do you think I am, some kind of lecher, hitting on underage girls at bars?" He was talking quietly into the phone, but he angled himself away from the bar anyway, just in case the old man might have better hearing than Edward thought.

Alice huffed. "How are you supposed to get to know her if you don't talk to her?"

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Mary Alice Brandon Cullen, you tell me the truth right now! Did you lie to me earlier today when you said Rose and Emmett left their phones at the hotel?"

"Of course not!" Alice's voice was full of mock hurt. "I'm wounded, Edward, truly wounded that you would think that of me. I merely want to help you." She paused. "You know, I don't know much about her. What's her mind like? What's she thinking?"

Edward opened his mouth to answer and had to shut it again instantly. Reaching out toward the girl in the booth, he felt...nothing. No wall like his family had learned to put up to keep him out of their minds. He literally heard _nothing_ from her. His ears could hear her heartbeat, but his sixth sense picked up nothing from her mind. It was as if she wasn't even there.

"Edward?" Alice prompted.

"I'll call you later," he mumbled, shutting his phone. He stared at the girl, scowling in confusion. She was obviously there, obviously awake and cognizant. She was doing homework, for chrissakes. And yet, he heard nothing.

"Eddie-boy!" Emmett crowed, waltzing through the door.

Before turning to his brother and sister, Edward saw the girl's response to Emmett's loud voice. She couldn't see the front door from her spot in the tall-backed booth, but she cringed away from the noise, huddling even further into the far corner of her seat. The movement was that of a scared animal, and Edward felt his blood begin to boil again at whomever had done this to her - given her these reactions. Granted, Emmett was a lot to take in at first glance. Still, she shouldn't be _that_ scared of him. He'd activated her instinctual fight or flight mechanism, and that was hard to do, even for vampires. Something had happened to this girl. Something bad.

But then Emmett was beside him, clapping him on the shoulder and ordering a pitcher of beer. The old man behind the bar didn't even bother asking for Emmett or Rosalie's ID, and brought Rose a cosmopolitan and Emmett his pitcher without a word. The three settled at a table, and Edward rolled his eyes at his bigger brother's antics.

"You're going to make yourself sick," he warned. "Beer's mostly water, you know."

"Don't bother," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "He already ate some cotton candy and tried a corndog today."

"I was _blending in_," Emmett said, making a gliding motion with his hand as if to express a covert operation.

"Rose?" Edward appealed to his more realistic sibling.

Rosalie merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that she was indulging Emmett today, and that meant no smacking him upside the head. Edward glanced at Emmett, wondering for the thousandth time what Rose saw in him. He was currently wearing a gigantic t-shirt with the ghosts from Disneyland's Haunted Mansion on it, and on his head he wore Mickey ears with his name embroidered on the back. Under Rosalie's chair were several bulging bags with the Disneyland logo: more souvenirs of Emmett's choosing, no doubt. Rose was almost as much of a shopaholic as Alice, but there were times when even she drew the line, and tacky souvenirs were one of them.

Edward pulled a stray thought from Rose's head. "Was it 'blending in' when you almost got kicked off Pirates of the Caribbean for indecent exposure?" he asked.

Emmett only laughed, chugging beer. "That wasn't indecent exposure," he said, waving away Edward's protest. "We were only making out a little, but there were some uptight parents in the boat behind us."

"Emmett - " Edward started.

"Oh, leave him alone," Rose snapped. "Let him have his fun."

Edward usually returned Rose's griping with barbs of his own, but today he let it slide. He glanced at the mystery girl's booth again, but he couldn't see her from this angle. "I'm getting out of here," he snapped, and rose to leave.

"Sure you're okay to drive?" Emmett asked, giggling into his beer.

Edward didn't answer as he pushed his way out of the bar, into the muggy haze of nighttime Los Angeles.

* * *

Six weeks later, Edward found himself sitting on a couch next to Jasper, playing a video game with half his attention, waiting for a family meeting to start.

"Pause your game, please, boys," Carlisle said, entering the room. Jasper did, and Edward dropped his controller. Esme was already seated in a chair, and they all waited as the girls and Emmett trooped in.

Emmett held his Mickey ears in his hand, and he held them up. "I would like to suggest that we use these," he said, flourishing the ears, "as the official Talking Ears. Whoever's wearing them gets to talk, and no one else."

"Sorry, son," Carlisle said, biting back a smile, "but this isn't that type of meeting. I called you all here to give you some news." He lifted his lips in a smile as he glanced at Esme, and she smiled encouragingly back. Edward refrained from digging in their minds, though he suspected that she already knew what Carlisle was about to tell them.

"As you may or may not know," Carlisle went on, "our police chief, Charlie Swan, has a teenage daughter."

"Really?" Emmett rubbed his head. "He always seemed like an old bachelor to me."

"Yes, well, he hasn't seen her in years. She lives in Arizona with her mother, from what he tells me. They were married a short time, but it didn't work out. Renee, his ex-wife, left him abruptly one day when the little girl was just a toddler. He fought for custody but lost - courts rarely like to separate mothers from their children, and with Charlie's dangerous profession, he didn't stand a chance."

"Sucks to be him," Rose said, folding her arms across her chest and looking impatient. "What's it got to do with us?"

"There have been some recent problems," Carlisle said, rubbing his palms together in an action that belied his nerves. "Charlie was contacted recently by Arizona state child protective services. It seems that the daughter has been repeatedly taken away from her mother for short periods of time over the last ten years or so, for various reasons - failure to provide adequate care, mostly. There have been no overt claims of physical abuse, but it's still a crime in most states to neglect a child."

"Poor kid," Emmett said, shaking his head.

"Well, she's been taken away once again, and she's in a group home right now. Charlie's only just been notified, and he's desperate to get her out of there. He's started a fight for permanent custody, but it will take a while to get an interstate court date worked out. That's where we come in."

"We're supposedly a foster family," Rose said with distaste, clearly seeing where this was going.

"Rose, Jasper, I'm sorry," Carlisle said. "I know you don't like being around humans, Rosalie, and I know this will be difficult for you, Jasper. But he begged me so hard, and I just couldn't say no to the man. He hasn't seen his daughter since she was three years old, and he's desperate to have her with him. We're the only foster family in Forks. He said he knew we already had a full house of teenagers, but he assured me that it would only be temporary, until he regained custody. It doesn't look like her mother has a leg to stand on when this goes to trial, which shouldn't be more than a month or two."

"And what about the kid?" Rose demanded. "What does she have to say about all this?"

Carlisle sighed. "I know you have a hard time with people making decisions for others, Rose, honey, but the legal system needs to do what's best for the child, which may not be what she wants. We'll do our best to care for her while she's with us, and I'm sure Chief Swan will as well. He didn't know much about her, but it's clear that she hasn't had a very stable family life. Let's try not to make it any worse while she's with us. Got it? Rose?"

"I won't terrorize her," Rose said, wrinkling her nose. "But that doesn't mean I have to like her."

"No, you don't," Carlisle agreed. "If you can't be nice, just stay out of her way. She won't be here long."

"You better be right about that," Rose said before heading upstairs.

Carlisle sighed as Emmett followed his wife. "Well, that went about as well as I had expected." He glanced at Jasper. "Are you going to be okay, son? I really am sorry about this. I wouldn't have done it if I was able to find a way out of it."

Jasper grimaced, but he nodded. "I may have to take some long hunting trips, but I'll cope. I'm around humans every day at school, anyway."

"I know, which is why I'm sorry. This home is supposed to be your sanctuary, and I'm taking that away from you."

"Only temporarily," Jasper said with a little shrug. He slung his arm around Alice and drew her close. "It's all right. I'll live."

"Good." Carlisle turned to Edward. "Edward, please forward to Emmett that you and he are to be on your best behavior. Try not to scare her. And Alice, try not to overwhelm her."

"Poor thing," Esme added, musing from her corner. "Being bounced in and out of her mother's house all her life. Who knows what she'll think of this new move? We'll have to be as understanding as possible."

"Be prepared for anger," Carlisle agreed. "She may be feeling quite a lot of it. Charlie didn't know if she knew anything at all about him. She may well view this move to Forks as meddling by people who don't know anything."

"What do you know about her, other than that she's Chief Swan's daughter?" Esme asked.

"Nothing, really. Her name is Isabella, and she's sixteen. That's about it. Charlie didn't know her favorite color, even."

"Well, that doesn't help us get her room ready, does it?" Esme said, frowning a little. "Alice? How would you like to take a trip to Seattle with me tomorrow? We can browse the stores and do our best."

"You bet!" Alice said excitedly. "Whatever you do, Esme, I'm sure she'll love it."

* * *

_Ah, prologues. They set you up with lots of necessary information but very little action. Ah, well. Till next time, duckies! Mwah!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hi, duckies! I don't have a set schedule for this one, since ACAP is still my first priority, but I'll do my best. And, since I got a couple of questions about the content of this story, here's what I've said to other people. In this fic there will be NO: babies, Jacob, goth/emo/punk Bella, cutting, drugs (maybe references to Renee, but that's it), evil Charlie...uh...was that it? I don't remember. Have a content question? Ask me and I'll add it to the list! There WILL be Evil James, and I'm 87% sure that he's gonna be human, but I haven't made up my mind completely about that one. If you have an opinion you can let me know._

_All standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

**Lullaby**

Carlisle stood with his family and a very agitated Chief Swan at gate A-22 inside SeaTac airport, just south of Seattle. Charlie's badge and Isabella's minor status got them past security, though normally you could not greet de-boarding passengers at the gate any longer. The door opened, and the obviously well-off first-class passengers spilled into the airport first.

It was late, pushing midnight. Charlie had apologized over and over to the Cullens for the red-eye flight, but he'd wanted as few people as possible around to witness his daughter's homecoming. It didn't bother the Cullens one way or another, and Carlisle professed himself delighted to stay up, claiming that Esme and the kids were night owls anyway and he had to get used to pulling swing and graveyard shifts at the hospital.

They had rented a full-sized van to make the trip, though both Rosalie and Edward wrinkled their lovely noses at the utilitarian vehicle. It wasn't pretty, Carlisle agreed, but it was big enough to seat everyone and still leave room for Isabella's luggage. The terms of the girl's fostering agreement stated that she was not permitted to spend unmonitored time with Charlie outside of the Cullen house, so it was necessary for Carlisle and Esme to pick her up, but Charlie wasn't about to miss his daughter's flight. The "kids" all chose to come for their own various reasons - Emmett and Alice because they actually wanted to meet their new temporary sister, Rose and Jasper because they went where their mates went...and Edward? Carlisle had to admit that he had no real clue why Edward had chosen to come. Maybe so he didn't seem like the odd man out. Very often it was hard to tell why Edward did anything - like a real teenager, Carlisle thought, hiding a smile behind his hand.

Now the coach passengers began to disembark, looking harried and tired even though the flight from Phoenix wasn't long. Carlisle watched Charlie rather than the thin trickle of people hustling out of the gate toward bathrooms and baggage claim. Poor man. Though Carlisle never had actual biological children of his own, he felt deeply for the police chief standing awkwardly in the airport, waiting to greet the daughter he hadn't seen since she was three years old. Virtually her entire childhood had passed, and Charlie had been privy to none of it. Vaguely Carlisle wondered just what kind of person Isabella's mother was when Charlie met her. What would possess the quiet, gruff, responsible chief of police to marry and have a child with a woman who would soon leave him so callously?

Charlie's hands were trembling slightly with nerves, and Carlisle watched the man clench them firmly to try and stop the fine vibrations going through his frame. The man didn't even know what his daughter looked like. He kept staring furiously at each new face as it de-boarded, searching for the one that was also searching for him. The tension was so great that even Carlisle could feel it, though he usually prided himself on his own even temper in tense situations. He reached out and put a hand on Charlie's flannel-clad shoulder. "It will be fine, Chief," he said, trying to lend the man a little solace.

"But what if she - " Charlie suddenly stopped talking as if the breath had been forced from his lungs.

Carlisle turned toward the trickle of people leaving the plane. He heard a gasp from Alice and a little growl from Edward as a small dark-haired girl stumbled over the carpet. She caught her balance and stared, wide-eyed, at Alice and Edward for a half a second before she shifted, planting herself firmly in place. Her eyes, so big and sweetly brown, turned deadly wary.

She was a lovely little thing - not much bigger than Alice, with a milky complexion that almost glowed against the vibrant brown of her long hair. And such big eyes! Carlisle didn't know if it was just the shape of her face that made her eyes seem so big and dark, but they looked so different from Charlie's, even though they were the same color.

"Bella," Alice breathed, so quietly that the Chief didn't hear it.

But, then, the Chief didn't seem capable of hearing much at the moment. The man was rooted in place, in a stance much like the dark-haired girl's, and Carlisle was touched to see a tear find its way down his creased cheek, disappearing into his moustache.

"Isabella," Charlie whispered, and he took a hesitant, stumbling step forward.

Though they did not look much alike, the similarity of their stances and their stumbles made it clear that this girl was, indeed, the one they were waiting for. Carlisle watched as she stood her ground, not moving an inch toward Charlie.

"Isabella, baby," Charlie whispered, his voice all but gone, "it's me, honey. It's daddy."

She eyed him cautiously, her face giving nothing away. "You're..." She pulled out a scrap of paper and read from it. "Charles Swan? Police chief of a town called Forks?"

Charlie's face collapsed, and Carlisle ached for him though he knew this was only to be expected. The girl before them had never really known her father. It was understandable that she treat him like a stranger. What did they expect - a teenage girl to run into a stranger's arms? "Yes, honey," Charlie said, his voice marginally louder, though no more steady. "I'm your father."

"That's what they told me last week," the girl - Isabella - said. "They also told me I'm not allowed to go anywhere with you, even if you _are_ a police chief."

Her voice wasn't cold, exactly - matter-of-fact, Carlisle thought. He decided to step in and try to diffuse the tension somewhat. The look on Charlie's face wouldn't let him just sit back and observe any longer.

"Hello, Isabella," he said, taking a little half-step forward. "How was your flight?"

She looked at him warily, which Carlisle was not used to. Normally girls and women practically fawned over him. He tried turning up the charm a little bit, hoping to at least put her at ease, though he certainly did not want his temporary charge actually crushing on him.

"I'm Doctor Carlisle Cullen," he said, trying to make his smile as warm and welcoming as possible, "and this is my family." He motioned to the group of vampires watching the exchange. "It's very nice to finally meet you. Charlie here has been so excited since he heard you were coming."

She did not respond, other than to flick her eyes toward his family for a moment before returning them to him. It unnerved him, the steadiness of her gaze. There was a hardness to her eyes that he hadn't ever seen before in someone so young, and it was very apparent to him that she did not trust any of them. "We're going to be your foster family for a while," he went on, not knowing what to say to put her at ease. "Just until Charlie gets custody."

"How long will that be?" she asked, and while her voice was still clipped and formal, Carlisle had to hope that the voluntarily-asked question was a step in the right direction.

"Only a couple of months or so," he said, trying to sound soothing. "I know Charlie is itching to take you home with him, but until that happens we're very happy to have you."

"You don't even know me," she said flatly.

And what was there to say to that, Carlisle wondered? It was undeniably true.

"Well, we know Charlie, so it's practically like we know half of you," Alice piped up, her tinkling little voice as cheerful as ever. "I can't wait to have another sister for a while! Rosalie over there isn't always up for fun like I am." She stepped forward and reached for Isabella's hand, but the girl stepped back quickly.

"I don't like to be touched," she said, thrusting her hands deep into her back pockets and looking warily at Alice.

"That's going to make it a little hard to have makeover nights," Alice said, and, undeterred, she darted forward quickly and linked her arm through Isabella's, dragging her toward the baggage claim. "Don't worry, Bella, it'll be fine. You'll _love_ it in Forks."

Isabella was obviously very unhappy with this sudden turn of events and she balked, trying to stand her ground, but she was no match for Alice's vampire strength. Dragged along against her will, she managed to turn her head and glare at Carlisle. "What," she demanded, "have you been feeding Tinkerbell? She's like a linebacker!"

"Get used to it," Emmett said, managing to grin - something Carlisle wasn't sure he was up to at the moment. "Shorty here always gets her way." He began to follow Alice and Isabella, and everyone else fell in, too.

"Jasper," Carlisle said lowly, trying to catch his son aside, "what are you reading from her?"

Jasper grimaced. "She's got a thick wall of indifference built up. I can't get below it to tell what she's really feeling."

"Can you try soothing her some?"

Jasper nodded, and a moment later Carlisle felt a wash of calming emotions swirl over him - a sense of homecoming, of safety and peace. He glanced quickly at Charlie, whose face had crinkled into a foolish smile as he watched his daughter being hauled along the concourse by Alice. Certainly Jasper's gift had affected him. Carlisle saw Isabella shake her head a couple of times, as if trying to rid herself of unwanted thoughts. He couldn't see her face, so he turned to Jasper.

"I can keep trying if you like," he said slowly. "But it's not working well."

"Why is that, do you think?"

"My gift only works on people willing to accept it," Jasper replied. "Mostly those who don't know any better, like the chief over there. But this girl won't. She's shoving the good feelings away."

Carlisle sighed. This might be more difficult than he'd originally thought. He'd been prepared for anger and hostility - a show of temper, perhaps. But this wary indifference was something else altogether. It wasn't a stone-cold, icy facade like Rosalie could construct. No, this was a very human sort of defense, and that made it more difficult for him to understand. The girl was not happy, that was clear enough. But she didn't seem to be angry, either. Or sad. The lack of emotion was difficult to understand. She'd just been plucked from her mother's home, placed in the care of the state, and then flown a good ways away to be dumped with a family of strangers and the father she never knew. Surely she must be feeling something?

They reached baggage claim swiftly, and Isabella promptly shook off Alice's grip on her arm. She rubbed the offended limb as if she'd somehow acquired cooties, and then went to stand resolutely at the correct baggage carousel.

"How are you holding up?" Carlisle heard Esme ask Charlie, and he was glad for his wife's caring presence. While Isabella would likely not want any mothering from a stranger, Charlie seemed glad to have Esme's support.

"She's just a little girl," Charlie whispered, his eyes never leaving his daughter, who stood resolutely in front of the baggage carousel, watching the line of luggage spin slowly. "But she's like a little adult." He shook his head. "What has Renee _done_ to her?"

"I'm sure we'll find out in time, Charlie," Esme said, rubbing his shoulder. "Let's just give her a little while to settle in. This is a big change for her. I can't imagine how frightened she must be, behind that facade."

Charlie sighed. "Take care of her, please, Esme," he begged, and Carlisle felt his heart go out to the confused, hurting man standing in the middle of the SeaTac airport baggage claim. "I wish I'd known years ago what was going on, but...please, just take care of her?"

"We will," Esme promised, her voice quiet but firm. "We'll do all that we can, Charlie. I promise."

* * *

The ride back to Forks was tense and quiet. Isabella had ensconced herself in the very back row of seats with her luggage, so no one else could sit beside her. Emmett sat in front of her and tried talking to her now and then, but she answered all his questions with shrugs or single syllables, and eventually he stopped. Charlie sat shotgun, and Carlisle had to carefully make sure he kept his driving under the speed limit, since the chief could see the speedometer from his seat. Not that he was watching. Though Charlie tried to be surreptitious about the whole thing, he kept turning his head to stare at his daughter whenever they passed an area bright enough for his human eyes to see her. He wasn't fooling anyone, but it was sweet to see.

"You'll love it in Forks," Alice said dreamily from her spot between Jasper and Esme. "Everything is so cool and green."

"I liked it in Phoenix," Isabella said stonily from the back. "I don't like cold, wet things."

Edward and Charlie both flinched, but Alice didn't seem to mind. "You'll change your mind," she promised. "One look at the forest, and you'll swear you never want to live anywhere else."

Isabella did not respond, and Carlisle glanced at her in the rearview mirror. To his vampire sight she was visible in her dark corner, huddled against the side of the van. She looked very tired, and somehow younger than her sixteen years. His heart went out to her. She was causing Charlie pain, but it wasn't on purpose. She was young, and afraid, and she was doing what she had to do to keep herself sane.

"You'll love our house, too," Alice went on. "We have a pool - do you like to swim?"

"It doesn't matter," Isabella said tightly, "whether I do or not. I won't be staying long."

"Maybe not," Carlisle chimed in, "but we'd like you to be happy while you're with us. Anything you need, Isabella, you let us know."

She did not respond to his statement, but he hadn't expected her to. He saw Charlie wince, and managed to give the Forks police chief a sympathetic smile.

"What do you do for fun, Bella?" Alice asked. Carlisle wondered why his daughter kept calling her that, but Isabella wasn't complaining so Carlisle wasn't about to.

"Fun?" She rolled the word around in her mouth as if it were a foreign concept. "Read, I guess."

"Do you like fashion magazines?" Alice sat up, her voice keen.

"No." The word was instantaneous, and Carlisle felt a flash of sympathetic disappointment for his daughter. She'd been so hopeful for a new friend to join her manic shopping sprees. He was perfectly aware that, while Rosalie humored Alice most of the time, they had very different personalities. So different that even a pastime they both enjoyed, like shopping, could become an ordeal if they had to do it together for too long.

"Well, what do you read, then?"

"Stuff," Isabella said, her voice suddenly guarded. "Books. Real books."

"What else do you like to do?"

Isabella shrugged. "Don't know."

"How can you not know what you like to do?"

"Alice," Jasper said quietly, and Carlisle suddenly wished for Edward's gift. He wanted badly to know what Jasper was sensing from Bella to make him hush Alice, but there was no way he could ask in the crowded van.

"Well, what kind of music do you listen to?"

Bella shrugged again. "I don't really." She paused, and for the first time she sounded faintly hesitant as she volunteered a little information. "I spend a lot of time in L.A. Being around musicians who think they're the shit kind of turns me off to their music."

Emmett snorted, and Carlisle refrained from calling Isabella on her language. They'd lay down some rules once she was settled in but for now he left her in peace.

"Have you ever tried classical music?" Edward said, and Carlisle was surprised to hear his son speak up. He'd been silent the entire trip so far, not even introducing himself. "The greatest composers in that genre are already dead, and it's more about the teamwork anyway. A composer is nothing without his musicians."

The corner of Isabella's mouth flicked up in a hesitant smile. "That's what John Williams said when I met him," she said quietly. "I like the sentiment, but I'm afraid I don't know much about the music."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, and Carlisle didn't need Edward's gift to understand what she was thinking. They didn't know this girl well enough to judge whether she was purposefully name-dropping, but clearly Rose didn't care about that. He was a little surprised that Edward didn't offer to introduce her to some classical composers, since he'd started the conversation, but his bronze-haired son said nothing more.

"Well," Alice said, plunging ahead as always, "_I_ love anything with a good beat. I absolutely adore dancing! Do you dance, Bella?"

"No." The word was quick and forceful. "No dancing."

"Do you sing?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Video games?" Emmett tried, but Isabella just shook her head.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell us about yourself, sweetheart?" Esme asked, her voice gentle in the dark van. Carlisle knew she was both stopping the flood of pestering questions from her children and giving the chief's daughter a chance to offer whatever she felt was most important to know about herself.

"What do you already know?" Isabella asked hesitantly.

"Practically nothing." Alice jumped in again. "Your name is Isabella Swan, you're sixteen years old, and the chief here is your dad. Also, I know you like to be called Bella."

"Actually," Isabella said slowly, "no one's ever called me that before."

"Really?" Alice sounded surprised. "I could have sworn..."

"It's okay," Isabella said quickly. "You know, I think maybe I might like it. A new name for a new...place."

Carlisle wondered at the hitch in her last sentence. Had she been about to say 'home'? He let the ghost of a smile flit across his mouth. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he had originally thought.

"Well, then." Alice sounded pleased. "What else is there to know about you?"

"That's really all you know?" Isabella asked, sounding intensely curious. "Nothing else?"

"Well," Charlie said slowly, reluctantly breaking into the conversation, "we do know you're here because Renee can't take care of you. I'm sorry for that, honey, I really am."

"I'm not," Isabella - Bella - said coldly.

"Honey - "

"You know," she said suddenly, cutting Charlie off, "I think that's maybe all you really need to know. What more is there to say? I've got a deadbeat mom and right now I'm a ward of the state."

"But there's got to be more to you, sweetheart," Esme said. Carlisle ached for his wife. She had such a kind heart, and he knew she was curious about Bella's reticence. "Those are things that happened _to_ you. They're not who you are."

Bella sighed and rubbed at her eyes. It was late; Carlisle thought she must be tired. It had been a long day. "You try having social workers make mandated calls to your house as you grow up, and heading off to a group home for a couple of months each year, regular as clockwork, and tell me it's not part of who you are."

"I'm sorry, honey," Charlie said again, his voice so quiet that Carlisle doubted Bella could hear him. Carlisle had no biological children, and his vampire "children" did not technically need him - not the way Bella needed a strong, caring parent right now. They stayed with him and Esme out of love, not need. So there was no way he could honestly say he understood how Charlie felt. He knew, though, that the guilt must be overwhelming. No matter that the police chief hadn't known about his daughter's plight. That knowledge, Carlisle was sure, didn't alleviate Charlie's guilt one bit.

They pulled up to the Cullen mansion around 1:30 in the morning, and everyone slowly dragged themselves out of the van, stretching as if sleepy and stiff from the long drive. Charlie hastened to help Bella with her luggage but she shied away from him, pulling her rolling suitcases with her. He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair before nodding a little.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. I have to work tomorrow, honey, but I'll be by to see you as soon as I can, all right?"

Bella shrugged, rubbing her hands together in the chilly night air. She was wearing a light sweatshirt, but that wasn't enough protection from the damp Washington cold.

Charlie still hesitated as if loath to leave, and Carlisle put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll take good care of her," he promised the chief, and Charlie tried to smile.

"Give me a call tomorrow, will you?" he asked, and Carlisle nodded.

"I will. I'd tell you not to worry, but we both know you will anyway. Just try to get some sleep. We'll all be fine here."

"I can't thank you enough for all your help." Charlie held out his hand, and Carlisle shook it. He watched as the police chief looked at his daughter again, clearly not wanting to let her out of his sight.

"Bella!" Alice called, beckoning from the porch. "Leave the bags for the boys and come see your room - you'll love it!"

The little human girl did not abandon her luggage as instructed, but resolutely tugged it along behind her as she thumped her way up the porch steps and into the house.

"Please," Charlie said once more, before ducking into his police cruiser. "Take care of her."

* * *

Bella stared at the warm, open, bright house as she reluctantly followed Alice's light footsteps up the stairs. She'd been in plenty of opulent houses before, but none had felt so...so welcoming. So peaceful. Idly she wondered what kind of dough their decorator had demanded, and whether he actually practiced the art of feng shui or was just really, really good at faking it. She followed Alice to the second floor, then up another set of steps to the third. As they kept climbing, Bella felt like Fanny Price from Jane Austen's _Mansfield Park_, the unwanted relative who had been kept hidden away in an attic storeroom. Or Sara Crewe from _A Little Princess,_ after her father's death. She hid a wistful little half-smile. She was very, very good at pretending to be someone else, and if she was able to do it here, maybe the make-believe would make life tolerable. She could pretend to be like Fanny or Sara, just waiting for the right person to rescue her from obscurity.

But, no. That wasn't quite right. Obscurity was what she craved. It was the limelight she hated, and that was one reason she was glad to be away from Arizona, away from California, away from the whole fucked-up mess of her childhood. The only question was whether this nowhere town in this nowhere state was far enough away.

And if it wasn't? What then?

Alice pushed open a door and slipped inside, and Bella peered around the doorjamb.

This was no attic garret, no tiny throwaway room. Bella's wish to play lost damsel was instantly crushed at the sight in front of her. The room was spacious and bright, with giant windows that faced the dark coniferous forest. Purple gauze curtains hung on elegant black rods, not hiding the view but helping to color the room. The walls were crisply white, the floor plushly carpeted, and a tall four-poster bed had pride of place. Matching purple gauze was draped around the bedposts in a feminine canopy. The comforter was a warm, plummy purple, and Bella melted when she touched it. Down, she thought, feeling the light plushness of it. A real down comforter. A child of the desert, she couldn't even imagine what it would feel like on a cold night like this to bury herself in the cloud-like warmth of a down comforter.

There was a tall dresser in the room, on which sat an antique pitcher and washing bowl. A roll-top desk, also antique, was the only other furniture. The pieces were clearly not a set, as antiques seldom were, but the wood was all similar colors and they complimented each other nicely. Bella stared at the clean white walls, and she couldn't help but smile.

"I know it's not much," Alice said, her hands on her hips as she scrutinized the room, "but we didn't have much time, and we didn't know what you liked. Now that you're here, we can re-do it the way you want."

Bella blinked. Re-do the room? "Why?" she found herself asking.

"So you like it, silly!"

She shook her head at this strange, short girl with the spiky black hair. Bella had noticed in the airport that every single member of her new foster family had the same strange gold eyes. She'd never seen a color like that before, so it had to be a recessive trait. She wondered if this family were inbred. Or maybe there was something weird in the water here. "Alice," she said, trying out the name for the first time, "I'm only going to be here temporarily, remember? Pro tem. I'm not permanent."

"So?"

"So why bother?"

"It's completely up to you, sweetheart," a new voice said, and Bella whirled around. She sighed in relief to find that it was only her new foster mother. "I'm Esme," the woman said, smiling comfortingly. "And we just want you to be happy here."

"The room is fine, really," Bella mumbled, dropping her eyes. This woman was impeccably lovely - so smooth and shining. There was an air of calm assurance about her, too, something warm and welcoming. Bella wanted very much to like her on the spot, but she grit her teeth and stopped those thoughts before they could go any further. She'd known plenty of people who could turn charm like that on and off at a glance. Just because this woman did not live in Hollywood didn't mean she wasn't familiar with the necessary skills. After all, she'd clearly done well for herself, landing a husband who was able and willing to put her up in a place like this. She'd probably never got those lovely hands dirty in her life.

"Well," Esme said, "just let us know if you need anything. Only you and I use the bathroom on this floor. My office is across the hall and Edward's bedroom is next to yours, but he has his own attached bath. He's very musical, but I've asked him to use headphones at night while you're living with us. You can knock on his door if you need to - he's not used to someone else living up here with him, but he's a gentleman."

Bella nodded absently, though she knew perfectly well that she would never, ever knock on that door, no matter how loudly he played the awful hip-hop or whatever it was he listened to. Her job right now was to wait out the time until she could leave this family in peace. Her job was to not make waves. She was good at that - many times in Renee's house she'd had to hide herself away so as not to incur her mother's anger. These were strangers she was living with now. There was absolutely no telling what might set them off. The best thing to do was to keep as quiet as possible, while she waited to see what the courts would say. With any luck they'd decide she was old enough to give life a try on her own. That was what she was hoping, anyway. She was tired of having to rely on other people. They always, _always_ let you down.

* * *

Edward paced silently in his room, listening to the quiet sounds of the girl next door getting ready for bed. It unnerved him, having her so close. When her eyes met his as she regained her footing after stumbling in the airport, he could honestly say for the first time in his entire undead life that his mind drew a complete blank. He didn't know what to say, what to think.

He immediately knew where he'd seen her before - vampire memories were near-perfect, but even if they weren't he knew he would have remembered her. She looked exhausted and wary as she planted herself in a solid defensive stance in the airport terminal, but she was clearly the same girl he'd noticed in the Willow Bar in L.A., the one Alice called Bella.

Alice noticed her, too. Her gasp told him that much, which was good because her mind wasn't terribly helpful. Whatever else she may have seen about this girl - which, he had to note, she had not yet revealed to him - she had not deduced that Bella from the bar and Chief Swan's daughter Isabella were the same person.

Bella's mind was still an utter blank to him, which was beyond frustrating. He'd met people whose thoughts he had to dig for before - Jasper could be like that, sometimes - but never had he met such a blank wall as Bella. From Jasper's conversation with Carlisle, it was clear he was also having trouble, though not as much as Edward.

He also didn't know what to make of the girl's behavior. She was still the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen in his life, and her eyes still haunted him, squeezing his heart with their pain. But she seemed so confused, too. So wary. She alternately lashed out, pushing people away from her, and acted hesitantly pleasant, too. There were no clear-cut definitions with this girl, no easy label to pin on her. It troubled Edward. He liked to compartmentalize, to fit the pieces of his life together in neat little packets, but Bella fit nowhere. For someone so small and quiet, she was remarkably troublesome in that way.

Edward listened carefully to the noises from the other room. There was no sound of movement, only the slow, soft thud of a sleeping human heartbeat. He toyed back and forth with his desire to sneak into her room, to look at her beautiful, delicate features while she slept. It could do no harm, he decided, and he slid on silent feet into the hallway. Her door had no lock, and he opened it noiselessly, listening for the telltale sound of Esme's thoughts. She was in her office across the hall, but she was thoroughly engrossed in her work and not thinking about him or their new guest at all. Edward slid inside Bella's bedroom and closed the door behind him so the light from the hall would not disturb her.

For a moment he was surprised. Bella's sweet, fresh scent made it clear that she was in the room, but she wasn't in the bed. He frowned at the gleaming white sheets, so immaculate that it was clear she had not even attempted to climb into bed. He prowled around the room, peering into the shadows of her closet, but found nothing. Breathing deeply, he stepped toward the bed again. He smelled her here, but he didn't see her.

A sudden surprised gasp from Alice's mind drew him out of his confusion. _Oh!_ she thought. _That's very strange. She's under the bed, Edward. Is she all right?_

Frowning, Edward knelt and stared into the darkness under the tall antique bed. Yes, she was there, wrapped in the plum-colored comforter from the bed and sleeping deeply. Even in the gloom his vampire eyes could see colors clearly, and her warm cheeks were tinted pink as she slept. Edward used the quiet moment to study her. She'd wrapped the comforter tightly around herself and she lay tucked in a small ball, her knees close to her chest. Even her dark hair was tucked inside the heavy cover, so all he saw was her pale face and a few delicate fingers as they clutched the edge of the comforter. It didn't look entirely comfortable, and not just because she was asleep on the floor. Though her face was relaxed, her body did not look peaceful. She looked on guard, even in her sleep.

Her tense posture brought back Edward's memory of the first time he'd seen those big dark eyes, and the pain she held in them. Again he wondered just what had happened to her. He knew enough to know that Renee wouldn't be winning any Mother of the Year prizes, but living with a scatterbrained caretaker wasn't enough to put that pain in a young girl's eyes. It wasn't just the normal growing pains every teenager felt, either - fights with friends, breakups with boys. This was something deeper, something that tore at this girl. Edward desperately wanted to know what had happened.

Moving slowly so as not to accidentally make any noise, Edward slipped out of her room again and crossed the hall. Esme sat at her drafting table, lit from underneath, a pencil tucked behind her ear. She smiled and beckoned to him as he poked his head in the room.

"Edward!" she said. "What can I do for you? Has Bella gone to sleep yet?"

He nodded and crooked a finger at her, motioning her to come with him. He led her into the hall and then into Bella's room, pointing to the small curled up figure under the bed.

Esme frowned, and he saw her hand begin to reach out toward the girl before she quickly drew it back again. _Should we try to move her to the bed, do you think?_

Edward shook his head. He didn't know what made Bella curl up under the bed like that, but he knew enough to understand that moving her wouldn't instill any trust. If she woke up while they were in her room, the result could be disastrous.

Esme nodded a little, and Edward followed her out of the room.

"What would make someone do that?" Alice asked, waiting for them near the stairs.

"I don't know, baby," Esme said, frowning a little. "I really don't know." She sighed. "I may take a trip into Port Angeles tomorrow. Carlisle says there's quite a good psychiatrist there on sabbatical, writing a book. I wonder if she'd have the time to talk to me - about a hypothetical situation, of course."

"When is Bella starting school?" Alice asked.

"Tuesday," Esme replied. "The chief agreed that she could use an extra day of rest."

"You think some stuck-up shrink is going to let you waltz in and start asking him about his job on a Sunday?"

Esme smiled. "I have my ways."

Edward groaned and hid his eyes, heading back to his room. "Leave me out of it," he said. "I really, really don't want to know."

"Prude." Alice giggled, but she quickly sobered again. "What's wrong with Bella, Esme?"

"I really don't know." Esme sighed again. "Maybe heading to school and getting back into a routine will help her settle in?"

"Maybe." Alice frowned. "I've seen some strange things about her, Esme. None of it makes sense."

"It will in time." Esme smiled fondly at her younger daughter. "Everything always manages to fall into place in time."

* * *

_A/N: Before you ask, Bella's secret is absolutely nothing like her secret in ACAP. If you can guess what she's hiding before Chaper 3 goes up, I'll write you your own lemony oneshot or give you the outtake from ACAP where Bella leaves Mason on the porch, whichever you choose. But I'm betting no one is gonna be able to guess! Mwah! Loves you, duckies!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hi all! Just a quick little Esme chapter here. And nobody's managed to guess correctly what Bella's deal is, so the game's still wide open!_

_All standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

**Lullaby**

Bella woke around five in the morning from troubled dreams she could not remember, and she slid out from under the bed. Her sensitive nose twitched, and she sniffed experimentally. There was a faint scent of flowers - almost like perfume, but so light. She also smelled...was that honey? And something like the rich, overwrought syrup of blackberries on the vine, hot from the late summer sun. She wrinkled her nose, breathing in the three distinct scents but not knowing what they were. Now that her nose had singled them out, though, she would remember them when next she encountered them.

Ever since she was a little girl, Bella had relied on her delicate nose to help her in social situations. Her mother thought she was crazy, but Bella swore that every person she met had a distinct smell to them, a unique combination of whatever products they used and the unmaskable odor of their own flesh. It wasn't a clear-cut, simple reaction, though. Someone with a sweet scent could still be trouble. Bella had years of practice at reading people and she studied them like a sociologist, working out their wants and needs, their goals and aspirations. It was important to be able to know what people wanted with her - vital, sometimes. She knew perfectly well that many people said one thing and meant something completely different. Not trusting the facade was the key to survival, in her book.

Which was why these Cullens were such a problem. Bella had absolutely no idea what they expected of her. On the surface they seemed pleasant enough, though Tinkerbell was beyond overbearing and the gorgeous blonde clearly didn't care about anything but herself. The mother and father seemed...normal. Rich, but normal. So normal, in fact, that Bella didn't trust them one bit. People this cheerful and warm didn't exist in real life; they were obviously hiding something.

And that was fine, Bella figured as she dug around in a suitcase for something to wear. She pulled out a pair of jeans that had been properly and thoroughly distressed - they were covered with paint splatters and bleach spots, and she'd torn the knees during various clumsy mishaps. Belting them in place, she tossed on a band t-shirt that had seen better days, some old gray Converse that she loved, and she jammed her wallet in her back pocket. She wasn't planning on leaving the house at the moment, but she believed strongly in always being prepared.

After washing quickly in the bathroom, Bella made her way slowly down the stairs to the ground floor. It was still dark outside, and while there were no streetlights anywhere near the Cullen house, a little illumination from several outdoor floodlights made it easier to find her way around. From long years of practice, Bella managed to make hardly any noise in the unfamiliar house. She found a china cabinet and turned on the lights inside to give her a little more illumination without actually lighting the whole floor and perhaps waking any members of the family.

There was a broom closet off the kitchen, and Bella got out a bucket, some rags, and a bottle of Murphy's Oil Soap. She smiled a little as she waited for the water in the kitchen sink to heat up. Murphy's was by far the best-smelling home-care product on the planet. The smell was warm and clean and welcoming, and it made her almost nostalgic, though she certainly had nothing to be nostalgic about. She dumped some in her bucket, then added hot water until the warm smell permeated the cold morning air and the bucket was full of bubbles.

Still smiling a little, Bella took her bucket and rags and knelt in the far corner of the dining room, where she could work her way around all the wooden floors in the house without getting stuck. She wet a rag, wrung it out, and began scrubbing.

While she scrubbed, Bella had time to think. The house was still silent, which did not surprise her. These were rich people. They were probably used to sleeping abominably late when they didn't have to work or go to school. More than likely the mother lay in bed until noon, drowsed her days away watching soap operas, and then made herself look pretty in time for her husband to come home. Bella wrinkled her nose, scrubbing at the floors that seemed to have no dirt on them at all. She never wanted to be one of those women, dependent on a man to do everything for her.

Except, she was sort of dependent on a man right now, wasn't she? Not Dr. Cullen - in the grand scheme of things, he didn't matter one way or another. She'd as soon run away as stay here in his house, no matter how lovely her room was. No - her father. Police Chief Charles Swan. Her social worker had made it perfectly clear that they were not sending her back to Renee this time. The custody hearing was more of a formality than anything, from her understanding. That meant that, in a few months' time, she would be moving into her father's home. And Bella really had no idea how she felt about that.

The man she'd met last night at the airport did not seem cruel or unkind. But, then, she didn't know him. She'd wondered if she would remember him at all, but she did not. Renee had kept no photos of him in the house, and Bella had no memories - not even fuzzy ones - of this tired-looking man with hound-brown eyes.

He'd looked so sad at the airport, she remembered as she scooted under the dining table. Man, this was a clean family. No crumbs under the table, even. Did they have someone in to clean for them, she wondered?

But no matter how sad he looked, the truth was that Charles - Charlie, the doctor had called him - Swan was a stranger to her. And that was entirely his doing. He had not called or written in the thirteen years she had been away from him, not once. He'd never visited, or asked her to visit him. According to Renee, he hadn't even protested when she left him with no custody. He was a non-entity in Bella's life. An emptiness. And she wasn't the kind to ask questions of Renee when Renee didn't want to talk.

So what was he supposed to be to her now? And why did he look so upset when she treated him like the stranger he was? Did he think she was stupid enough to fall for it, to assume parental affection could be flicked on or off with the touch of a switch?

Bella's musings were cut off by the sound of the back door opening. The room was suddenly flooded with light, and she peered out from under the table, blinking a little.

"My goodness!"

It was the mother. Bella's jaw dropped. The lovely, elegant woman was dressed in jeans almost as ratty as Bella's, and a giant sweatshirt that looked like it belonged to one of her sons. She was all over mud, from her forest-green plastic gardening clogs to the elbows of the baggy sweatshirt, and while she wore no makeup she was still as beautiful as Bella remembered.

"Bella, darling, what are you doing?" she asked, pausing at the door to kick off her shoes. She padded barefoot across the floor Bella had not cleaned yet, stopping at the edge of the table. "Why on earth are you scrubbing the floor? And on your knees, too." She clucked in dismay and held out a filthy hand.

Bella stayed where she was and did not take the offered hand. "How else would you prefer I earn my keep?" she asked warily, eying the woman shedding clods of dirt and dripping mud onto the gleaming floor.

"Earn your keep?" Esme asked, frowning in confusion. "Whatever do you mean?"

Bella jerked a thumb at herself. "Foster kid," she said, "remember? Means I'm not a real one. So if I shouldn't be cleaning, what would you rather I do?" She paused, twisting the wet rag nervously in her hands, and decided that a tough front might be the best way to go. Tough little orphan, like Pepper from _Annie_. Maybe that would help them understand she shouldn't be messed with. "I'm not fucking your sons," she said bluntly. "Or your husband. The one kid who tried that had to have a testicle retrieval operation. I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll grocery shop - I'll even tutor. That Andre the Giant impersonator of yours looks like enough of a meathead to need it. No offense."

"Isabella Swan!"

Bella flinched and ducked back under the table at Esme's raised voice, but suddenly there was a cold hand on her upper arm, pulling her out into the dining room. She yanked her arm away and rubbed it, glaring at Esme. "I said I don't like to be touched."

Esme sighed. "I remember, and I'm sorry," she said. "Sit down, please, and I'll make us some tea. There's a lot to unpack in that statement of yours."

"You want tea?" Bella climbed cautiously to her feet. "I can make it."

Esme paused, and she let out a little laugh. "Not here twelve hours and you're already teaching me new things. Sweetie, do _you_ want tea?"

"Ah..." Bella paused. "Sure?"

Esme cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

Bella shrugged, feeling nervous now that her bravado was leaking away. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. It was useless to try to keep up the facade. She was no spunky orphan with a knack for splitting people's lips when they mocked her. Hell - she wasn't even an orphan. She was just another kid with a set of fucked-up parents. Absolutely nothing original or exciting there. And that thought should have made her feel better, but it didn't.

"It matters more than anything else in the world, in this moment." Esme beckoned to Bella. "Come on into the kitchen with me."

Unable to disobey such a confusing person, Bella followed. Esme put the kettle on, got out a big mug, and then stared thoughtfully into a cabinet. "I know what you'd like more than tea," she said finally, and pulled out a box of hot chocolate packets. She said nothing more while the water heated, but she dumped two packets of chocolate mix into the mug, then got out a spoon and handed it to Bella. "Are you hungry, too?" she asked, opening and closing cupboards again. "I didn't expect you to be up so early, especially with the late night yesterday."

"I'm not much of a breakfast person," Bella said, shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other.

The kettle hissed, and Esme deftly poured water into Bella's mug without spilling a drop. Bella watched wistfully, wishing she had grace like that. She'd probably have spilled hot water on her shoes and burned her toes.

"Now let's sit," Esme said, leading Bella back to the table. "No one in this house is much of a breakfast person, either. In fact, we're not big on meals as a whole. Everyone is so busy, anyway, it's hard to find time to sit down as a family. We tend to just grab and go. I hope that's something you can get used to while you're here."

"It actually sounds pretty good," Bella said quietly, sipping hesitantly at her hot chocolate. It was warm in her mouth, and she couldn't help the smile that touched her lips. She hadn't had anything so childishly good in a long time. There were even tiny marshmallows already in the mix. She was also more than relieved that the Cullens didn't sit down for big family dinners. That would be horribly awkward.

"Bella, sweetie, we need to talk about what you said."

Bella dropped her head, staring at her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean - "

"Now, wait a moment, please," Esme said, and Bella saw her hand reach out, then hesitate and drop back to her side. "Bella, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?"

"No." Esme brushed at a section of mud on her sweatshirt. "Honey, did you know all of our children are adopted?"

Bella shook her head. _All_ of them?

"Yes." Esme smiled. "We've fostered them all before adopting, and we don't consider them anything but our children, as if they were ours by blood. In our eyes, there's no difference."

"But I'm different," Bella said quietly. "I belong to Charlie."

"Yes," Esme agreed, "you do. But that doesn't mean you're a servant or a stranger while you're here." Esme paused, gathering her thoughts. "We know so little about you, Bella, but I know enough to understand that telling you to make yourself at home isn't going to make you feel any better. I'm sorry for that, I truly am. I know I'm not your mother, and I can only imagine what you must be feeling about mothers right now. But I'm still going to tell you that Carlisle and I consider you part of the family while you're here. Anything you need, we're going to do our best to provide. I hope you understand that I don't merely mean material things, either. If you need someone to talk to, or you ever decide you'd like to try a hug - we're happy to do that, too."

"You're like something out of a fairy tale," Bella murmured, not sure at all whether she meant the words sarcastically or not.

Esme couldn't hold back a smile. "Am I? The wolf or the kind grandmother?"

"I haven't decided yet," Bella said honestly.

"I know." Esme moved again as if she wanted to touch Bella, but she refrained. "Now on to the next subject. Try to refrain from cursing in the house, please. The other kids aren't always good about watching their language either, but we do ask that you try."

"Gotcha," Bella said, breathing a little sigh of relief. House rules were easy to talk about. This was no big deal.

"Also, since you brought it up, please abstain from sexual relations while you're living with us. Under no circumstance do the men in this house expect anything from you in that area, and I'm frankly a little unsettled that that even needed to be said."

"Foster kid, remember? The situation has come up before."

"Well, it shouldn't have," Esme said firmly. "It's absolutely unacceptable to take advantage of a child like that. Did you report the incident when it occurred?"

"With my boot," Bella said with a small, wry smile as she remembered the pitiful squeaking noises that imbecile had made when her foot connected with his offending body part.

"Yes, I gathered. But to the authorities, Bella. Did you tell the police, or your social worker?"

"No." Bella shrugged. "It didn't ever get far enough that I felt in danger. I'd been watching him. I was ready."

"Still, you shouldn't have to live like that. Always on guard." Esme bit back something else she was going to say, and said instead, "You have nothing to fear from the men in this house, Bella. But you're a pretty girl, and once you start school I'm sure the boys in town will be interested in you. Please let myself, Carlisle, or Charlie know if someone hassles you. There's no excuse for that kind of behavior, ever."

"I'm kind of used to dealing with sh - stuff like that on my own."

"No doubt," Esme said with a strange look that Bella could not place. "But the need to do that ends now. You're obviously very capable, but you're still just a child."

Bella stared at this beautiful woman who was clearly much more than she let on. Originally Bella had pegged her as just another trophy wife, but it was plain to see now that Esme Cullen was no idiot. She was, however, very wrong about that last statement. "No, Mrs. Cullen," Bella said quietly. "I'm not a child, and I haven't been for a very long time."

One side of Esme's mouth lifted, though there was no humor or happiness to the gesture. "I don't suppose you're willing to tell me what makes you say that?"

"I'm here with a bunch of strangers instead of with my mom. Isn't that enough?"

"No." Esme reached out, and this time she did not check her movement. Two cold fingertips caught underneath Bella's chin very lightly, urging her to look up. Bella stared into those strange golden eyes, unable for the moment to look away. The color was absolutely enchanting - they almost seemed to glow. Maybe there was something wrong with this family's diet. Didn't jaundice give you yellow eyes?

"Bella," Esme said, not dropping her hand, "I'm not stupid. And just so you know, I have dark parts in my past as well. I see betrayal in your eyes, and it takes time to get over that. You also can't do it alone. If you never let people in, how will you ever learn to trust again?"

Bella pulled her chin away from the light touch of Esme's fingers, surprised that she hadn't done it sooner. "You won't," she said flatly. "But you never get hurt again, either."

"Little one, that's not living." She didn't look away, and the intensity of her eyes was starting to make Bella very nervous. "Who else?" she asked abruptly. "Who else has hurt you besides your mother, Bella?"

"Isn't that enough?" Bella pleaded, desperate to get away from this unnerving woman with her strange yellow eyes and her face that seemed to know too much. She was used to being looked at, but not like this. Not with this kind of studious attention that seemed to almost pull unsettling revelations right out of her.

After a moment's intense silence Esme finally nodded and dropped her eyes, permitting Bella to look away. "For now," she said. "It's enough for now. But you need to open up to someone, Bella. It doesn't have to be me. In fact, Charlie would be over the moon if you chose him, but I understand that he's a stranger to you just as much as we are."

"No kidding," Bella muttered.

"It might hurt to talk, but I assure you it's healing. Just think about it, please?"

Bella shook her head to clear it, rubbing at her eyes. She suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than to get out of this room. This woman didn't know anything, and yet she knew altogether too much. It was far too much to handle, and Bella wanted out. Now. "No swearing and no sex," she said, taking the mug of chocolate that had gone cold and bringing it to the sink. "Anything else?"

"We run a relaxed household," Esme said, giving up on the heart-to-heart for now. "I won't give you a curfew unless your actions show me you need one. You'll start school on Tuesday. Just keep your grades up and let Carlisle or I know if you're having trouble in any of your classes. You're free to join any extracurriculars you'd like, just let us know if you need any equipment and we'll get it for you. Charlie will be bringing by a car for you tonight so you can get around, since we live so far from town."

"Why Tuesday?" Bella asked, latching onto the most important part of Esme's speech. The car would be nice, she supposed. Then she wouldn't have to rely on anyone in the family for rides to school. But the thought of a day cooped up in this house alone with this woman was more frightening than the thought of a new school. "Why can't I go on Monday?"

"Charlie thought you might appreciate an extra day to rest," Esme said gently. "This is a big transition, and we want to make it as easy as possible."

"I'd rather go to school," Bella said, shifting uncomfortably as she rinsed her mug and placed it in the immaculate dishwasher. It didn't even have that weird dishwasher smell. Was there _anything_ normal about this family? "Get settled in a routine as soon as possible."

"If that's what you want, then of course you can go tomorrow. Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm covered," Bella said quickly.

"All right, then." Esme rose from the table and stretched a little. "Nothing better than a hot shower after an early morning in the garden," she said with a smile. "Help yourself if you change your mind about breakfast. And Bella? You may not believe this now, but we truly are glad to have you."

* * *

Esme paused before she opened the door to the police station. Out of habit, she checked her appearance in the glass door before pulling it open. She wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, but someone had to do something to help that girl, and she couldn't do it on her own.

"Mrs. Cope!" she said as she entered, surprised to see the woman behind the reception desk. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Mrs. Cullen, how are you?" the school receptionist said with a friendly smile. "Yes, I pick up weekend shifts working the desk here now and then. What with Bob gone, it gets a little lonely around my place. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if the chief was in. I wanted to talk to him about his daughter."

"Sure, let me give him a call." Mrs. Cope picked up the phone. "I'm sure he'll drop everything to talk to you. How is the poor dear doing?"

"About as well as can be expected, I suppose," Esme said, not wanting to gossip. Mrs. Cope was a nice enough person, but she did work at the school and Esme didn't want any information about Bella getting out unless Charlie said so.

Just then the man in question hustled out of a back room, and his eyes lit up when he saw Esme. "Mrs. Cullen! I thought I heard your voice."

"I was just getting ready to call you, chief," Mrs. Cope said.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Charlie, everything is fine," Esme said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I just wanted to ask you a question. And, please, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Esme? Mrs. Cullen is my mother-in-law."

Charlie smiled and held open the little gate separating the rest of the police station from the reception area. "Five teenagers, and I bet you don't look a day older than when your doctor married you," he said with a smile.

_You have no idea_, Esme thought, but she only gave Charlie a teasing smile before allowing him to lead her to his cubicle. The desk was littered with papers and file folders, and there were dozens - literally dozens - of old photographs adorning the wall. A few were of Charlie's fishing buddies, and there were a couple of Billy Black and his son Jacob. But most were of Isabella.

He only had photos of her as a baby and toddler, but her sweet little smiling face was absolutely everywhere in Charlie's cubicle. She was a lovely little child, with the same big brown eyes that looked even larger in her tiny baby face. The photo that almost broke Esme's heart was one of Charlie in hospital scrubs, on what was obviously the day of Bella's birth. He was holding her in his arms, her tiny body almost swallowed by his bulk, and she was reaching one hand up toward his face. His expression was absolutely sublime, full of both astonishment and love. Esme shook her head a little, trying to remember why she had come. What kind of mother, she wondered, could rip a child away from a father who showed that kind of devotion?

Now that they were settled away from prying ears, Charlie's expression turned anxious. "Is she all right, Esme?" he asked, worry permeating every syllable. "How did she sleep? Is she eating? I hope she hasn't said anything too awful today. I am so sorry about last night - "

"It's fine, Charlie," Esme said, patting his hand a little. He didn't seem to even notice how cold she was. "I have teenagers myself, remember? Five of them, in fact. They act out, it's what they do. And can you really blame her? Bella has lost her mother and her entire world all in one stroke. No matter how she felt about her mom, that life was all she knew. Of course she's scared."

Charlie sighed, looking despondent. "I wish things could have been different with Renee, I really do. After she left, she told me she didn't want me calling or visiting. Said it would confuse Isabella. I fought and argued, but she had custody so there was nothing I could really do. I tried sending my girl presents at Christmas and on her birthday, but Renee just sent them back." He rubbed at his tired-looking eyes. "Now I've got a sixteen-year-old girl who doesn't want anything to do with me, and I can't blame her. There's no telling what Renee put into her head."

Esme hesitated for a moment. "That's partially what I wanted to talk to you about," she said slowly.

"What? Did she say something about her mother?"

"No." Esme glanced around the cubicle again, but there was no easy way to say this. "Charlie, I wish we didn't even have to bring this up, but I think it's for the best that we discuss it now. Bella is a very sweet girl, but she's been exhibiting some odd behavior."

"Like what?" Charlie visibly braced himself.

"She slept under her bed last night instead of in it, and I found her scrubbing the dining room floor early this morning when I came in from my garden. She expected to have to earn her keep." Esme stopped there, deciding not to burden the chief with what his daughter had said just after that. Talking about Bella and sex would not go over well right now. "I tried to sit down and talk with her, but she wasn't forthcoming. She keeps a lot bottled up inside - I can see it in her eyes. I'm betting she takes after her father in that way."

Charlie snorted. "She certainly doesn't get it from her mother. When Renee was upset, the entire neighborhood knew about it." He put his head in his hands. The slope of his slumped back looked defeated. "What am I going to do, Esme?" he asked brokenly. "I don't know how to raise a teenage girl, let alone help one that's hurting."

"I know, Charlie." Esme put a hand on his shoulder. She felt a great deal for this poor man. He hadn't asked for any of this. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Do you think we should find her a therapist?"

"Yes, actually." Esme was surprised; she hadn't expected the discussion to be this easy. "Now, I know there's no one closer than Port Angeles, and I'm sorry for that."

"I'll take her," Charlie said resolutely. "I'd drive to Seattle every day if it would help her feel better."

Esme had no doubt that he would. "I actually had a suggestion for you. Through Carlisle's contacts, we've learned that a world-renowned psychiatrist is in Port Angeles on sabbatical right now. He's supposedly writing a book, but you know as well as I do that he won't be at his computer all day every day. I'd like to go talk to him, on the off chance that he would be willing to take Isabella's case while he's in town. If anything she's dealing with lines up with his current research, he'd likely take you on for free."

"That would be wonderful," Charlie said, expelling a deep breath. He looked at her with thankful eyes. "Would you really be willing to do that? I just wouldn't know what to say."

"Of course." Esme stood to leave. "Thank you for your permission to talk to him. We'll do all we can to help your daughter, Charlie, I promise."

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "Somebody needs to, and I just don't know how."

* * *

_A/N: Next time we meet our new psychiatrist friend and Bella goes to school. Loves you, duckies!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey, all. This was a really hard chapter, which is why it took so long. I'm having trouble because I know where we're going, I just don't quite know how we're getting there yet. I also had some trouble with Peter and John because they're not canon characters. My Peter doesn't have Charlotte, he has John. Sorry if that bugs anyone, it's just how he came out. Anyway. This is the last chapter before Bella's big reveal, so if there are any more guesses this is the last chance to get them in!_

* * *

**Lullaby**

The house Esme finally pulled up to in Port Angeles was a lovely, tastefully updated Craftsman with a wide front porch and clean gutters spilling gracefully into rain barrels. She smiled at the warm beige and forest green colors - whoever had done the decorating here was someone she could definitely learn to like. She stepped out of her car and gazed at the immaculately manicured front lawn, smiling broadly at two prancing topiary horses, one on each side of the wooden steps leading to the door. There were even morning glory vines twined into the tall shrubs, which, when flowering, would give the horses lovely blue manes and tails.

On the porch were two Adirondack chairs with cream-colored cushions, and on the matching table between them sat a chessboard, ready and waiting. Esme's smile only broadened as she rang the doorbell.

Quick footsteps and laughter sounded inside, and the door was opened to a smiling face much younger than Esme had been expecting. He looked to be in his early thirties, perhaps, with a modern, choppy haircut and crisp clothes. His welcoming grin was dimpled and warm, under immaculately-groomed eyebrows. "Can I help you?" he asked, and his accent was comfortably Californian to Esme's ears.

"Dr. Peter Concord?" Esme asked.

"Guilty as charged." He extended a soft human hand with manicured nails. No polish, of course, but the nails had been buffed and expertly filed, and even his cuticles looked professionally maintained.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you on a Sunday afternoon," Esme said, taking his hand in her own, careful not to press too hard. "My name is Esme Cullen, and I heard you were in town from my husband, a doctor at Forks Hospital."

"Yes, yes, come in, come in," the young man said, ushering her into the house. "I visited the hospital several weeks ago as part of my research. Nothing too heavy - just trying to meet people, maybe make some contacts. Did your doctor husband tell you I'm here on sabbatical, working on a book?"

"He did." Esme allowed him to take her coat and hang it in the foyer. "I'm hoping to learn a little more about your research."

"Really? Pish, such a fabulous guest as you surely doesn't want to hear about technical academic work." He beckoned her into the kitchen, where a small breakfast table was partially set. "We were just getting ready for a bit of afternoon tea. Let me introduce you to John, and I insist you join us."

"Did I hear the name Cullen?" another male voice asked, and a young man with bright red hair and a pleasant smattering of freckles clattered easily down the stairs. "Wasn't that the doctor back in Forks you described as 'utterly delicious'?"

"It was indeed," Peter said, holding his arm out for the other man. "This is his appallingly lucky wife, Esme. Esme, this is my husband, John."

"Lovely to meet you," Esme said, shaking the freckled hand extended to her.

"Pleasure's ours," he replied. "Tea?"

"Thank you." Esme sat in the chair Peter pulled out for her. Tea was one of the easier things to pretend to eat or drink; it was a cup to hold while talking more than an actual beverage.

"We haven't had many visitors since we've been here," John said, pouring tea. "Lovely to meet such a charming almost-neighbor."

"You're too kind," Esme said, laughing. "I need to know who decorated the yard and chose the outside paint colors. It's so warm and inviting."

"_And_ whimsical," Peter added, holding up a finger.

"That would be me." John grinned. "I haven't had formal training, you see, but it's a hobby I enjoy."

"You have the eye for it," Esme said honestly. "You might think about getting your degree. I'm an architect myself, though I dabble in design."

"When Petey's done with this book I may think about it." John passed cups to everyone. "Have to have something to do while he's on his book tour, right?"

They chatted easily for a while, and Esme found herself warming to the two men. Their pleasant, innocent flirting made her laugh, and before she knew it, she was agreeing to bring Carlisle back with her for a visit soon. She knew she was not the judge of character that Edward or Jasper were, but these two seemed like a happy, perfectly content young couple. She hoped they hadn't been too lonely since they moved - the Olympic peninsula was full of small towns, with small-town prejudices. It wasn't surprising at all that they hadn't had many visitors yet, and Esme found herself hoping that that might change. Dr. Concord's well-known name might help ease things a little. Being somewhat of an outcast from both human and vampire societies herself, Esme knew how hard it was to not belong, sometimes. The difference was that she had a large, loving family that more than made up for a lack of outside friends. Certainly she had human acquaintances, but it was hard to get emotionally attached when she knew she would have to leave them eventually, breaking all ties. The few years they were able to stay in any one place seemed to fly by, when she thought about it that way.

Still, this was just the place for a well-known person to come on sabbatical. They were close enough to Seattle to be able to get there without too much trouble - even Portland, the U.S. Mecca for misfits, was close enough to make day trips possible. But this was a quiet neighborhood in a quiet town where nothing much ever happened. Bigger than Forks, but that wasn't really saying much. Peter would have no trouble finding time to work on his book.

She didn't know what his current research was about, but he'd written two very popular psychology books already. One was about children and divorce, which was what had made her think of him in the first place. While she knew Bella's issues did not necessarily stem from her parents' divorce, she was willing to bet that Dr. Concord knew plenty about other issues between parents and children as well. And Bella needed help - that was beyond clear, at this point. Even if she were willing to open up to Charlie and accept love from him, forgive him for his absence, that wouldn't solve the problem. Something deeper had hurt this girl. Esme didn't know what. She didn't know if she ever would - she was only Bella's temporary guardian, after all. After a few months, the child would be turned over to her father.

Which was as it should be, Esme knew, but all the same she couldn't help but feel a little distressed. When she'd come in from her early-morning gardening to see the small, dark figure of Bella huddled under the table it had shaken her badly. Bella's defensive eyes gave away her fear and mistrust, proving how wary she was of people in general and her new foster family in particular. Esme had wanted nothing more in that moment than to hold the slight little human, to prove to her that she was safe and cared for, no matter how temporary the situation. But doing that would just push Bella farther away, so she had refrained. It didn't make her feel any better, though.

Peter and John were still chatting pleasantly about inconsequential nothings, and Esme forced her mind back to the conversation. She saw a sympathetic little smile flash across the psychiatrist's face, and she wondered briefly what he had seen in her expression while she worried.

"But that's not why you came to see us," Peter said, leaning back from the table and looking more serious. He looked, for the first time, like the doctor he was. "You said it was something to do with my work?"

"Yes." Esme hesitated. Dr. Peter Concord was nothing like she'd expected, and now that she'd met him she was not sure at all whether Bella would feel comfortable with him. He was a very nice man, but he was young. Was he too young, perhaps, for Bella to feel like she could trust him? But Bella needed help, and this young man was her best chance.

"Spit it out, you're among friends," John urged. "Petey doesn't bite...much."

The two men dissolved in giggles and Esme found herself wanting to laugh along. There was something boyish and cheerful about them that she liked very much.

"I mentioned to you that Carlisle and I have adopted children," she said.

"Yes, you did," Peter agreed. "What's the matter, they driving you crazy? Want me to get inside their heads and explain them to you?"

"No, but I appreciate the offer," Esme said, allowing herself to smile. Most of them were no trouble at all, though there were times she'd give just about anything to get inside Edward's head. She doubted this man not even a third Edward's age could help with that, though. "But we recently took in a new foster child. She's the daughter of our police chief, and she's staying with us while her parents work out a rather unhappy custody dispute."

"That can be hard on kids," Peter said, nodding. "How's the poor thing doing? Sleeping all right?"

"It's hard to say." Esme sighed, and instantly all of her worry returned. She hadn't forgotten it, as she sat and talked with the doctor and his partner, but now the full weight of Bella's plight settled over her mind again. "She's sixteen years old, and I know she's hurting."

"One moment." Peter held up a restraining hand. "Before we get into details, do you have the authority to give them to me? I don't want any legal trouble for anyone."

Esme nodded. "Thank you for asking, but yes, I do. I also spoke with her father, and he's given his full permission."

"And her mother?"

"Lives in Arizona and will not be getting Bella back, we've been almost entirely assured."

"All right, then. Continue." Peter wore his business face now, and Esme was impressed at the change. He was solemn, soaking up information, and she could almost see the gears in his head working as he listened to what she had to say.

"I know Bella's hiding something, something painful that she doesn't want to talk about. It's no secret that her mother neglected her, so I don't believe that's the issue. There's something else, but she's very secretive. Doesn't like to be touched, doesn't like to talk about herself. Last night was her first with us, and she slept under her bed, wrapped up in a comforter. When I came in from my garden early this morning I found her under the dining table, scrubbing the floor. She admitted to me that she expected to have to earn her keep while she lived with us."

"Sounds like a bad experience in a former foster home," John said, beginning to carry the dishes to the sink.

"Sad, but true." Peter pressed his fingers together. "Not all foster parents are doing it out of the goodness of their hearts."

"But I don't think that's it." Esme shook her head, not able to explain how she felt. It was a niggling suspicion, nothing she could substantiate. "She admitted to being sexually harassed in a foster home before, and while it turns my stomach to even think about, she is a very pretty girl and I wish I were more surprised than I am."

"The world can be a cruel place," Peter said kindly. "None know it better than the children who have been abandoned."

"But she spoke about the harassment so matter-of-factly," Esme mused. "I'm sure it bothered her, but I don't believe the pain in her eyes is because of sexual abuse or rape."

"Interesting." Peter tapped his fingers, his eyes lost in thought for several moments while Esme watched him. Finally he smiled. "I would very much like to meet this foster daughter of yours, if you're amenable." He reached for a yellow legal pad on the kitchen counter and scribbled some notes to himself. "What did you say her name was?"

"Isabella - Bella - Swan."

Peter and John both froze; Esme could hear the clatter of a cup as John set it down and quickly came around the counter, staring at her.

"Did you say Isabella Swan?" Peter asked carefully. "Is that Isabella _Marie_ Swan?"

Esme frowned. "You know, I don't know her middle name," she said. "I can call her father, if you like?"

"Please," Peter said, looking altogether too excited.

A quick phone call later, Esme confirmed it: Bella's middle name was, indeed, Marie.

"Amazing," Peter murmured. "That she would be so close. It's quite the coincidence."

"What is?" Esme asked suspiciously.

"That you should come to me, when you clearly have no idea who that child in your home is."

Esme glanced between her two new friends, knowing full well that they knew something about Bella that she did not. Something big, something important. "She's my foster daughter," she said warily. "Our police chief's little girl. What else is there to know?"

"About a normal child? Perhaps nothing," John said, leaning back on his elbows against the kitchen counter. "But about this one? Everything."

"Let's move to the living room." Peter stood and took his paper with him. "The couch will be more comfortable. I need to know absolutely everything you know about this girl, every minute detail of your time with her. And there are some things you need to know, too."

Esme followed them into the living room, wishing Carlisle was with her. She had a feeling she wasn't the only one who needed to know what Dr. Concord had to say.

* * *

Bella spent the day in her room, organizing her school supplies for tomorrow and deciding on clothes to wear. She laid out her next day's outfit on her desk chair but left the rest of her clothes in her suitcases. There didn't seem to be much point in unpacking. She wouldn't be here long. Whether she would unpack at Charlie's house in a few months remained to be seen.

She still didn't know what to make of her discussion - if you could call it that - with Esme earlier that morning. It had rattled her enough that she stayed in her room with the door firmly shut and did not attempt to leave, even to find some lunch. Tinkerbell had knocked on the door and called for her once, but when Bella did not answer she had gone away. Bella felt a little uncomfortable about that, too. She didn't mean to be unkind, but she wanted it made clear that she was not up for bonding activities. She was only here temporarily, and once Charlie got custody she was moving on. There was no point in pretending otherwise, no point in trying to be "sisterly" when Bella was sister to no one. She was an only child - always had been. Just her, alone.

Why Esme couldn't understand that, Bella didn't know. Maybe she had a perfection complex or something, that made her incapable of just letting things be. Bella scrunched up her shoulders and twirled a ballpoint pen between her fingers, staring idly out the window at the wet, dripping evergreen trees. Of course, a complex didn't explain the aura of warmth Esme exuded.

Not that it mattered. This family's secrets were theirs to keep, just as hers were. If they didn't pry, she wouldn't pry. Surely they could all agree to that?

The ungodly beautiful boy with the room next to hers was apparently also ungodly quiet. She hadn't heard a peep out of him all day - not a slammed door, dropped book, or muttered curse to be heard. If he jacked off, his bed did not squeak. If he listened to music, his headphones did not leak. It was very strange. Bella felt a little nervous up here alone with him, but so far he had not tried anything. He hadn't said a word to her at all, except for the one small exchange about classical music the night before. Briefly Bella wondered if he was perhaps a trifle autistic. Didn't people along the autism spectrum keep to themselves and have a hard time connecting with others?

Of course, the same could be said about her behavior, Bella reflected. And _she_ certainly wasn't autistic. Maybe he was just shy or moody.

Not that there was much point in dwelling on it. Once she was out of this house, Bella supposed she might catch a glimpse of his pretty face in school now and then. But that was it. Nothing more. And she didn't mind that, Bella told herself. She didn't mind being alone; that's the way it had always been. It was safer that way. Everyone else always wanted something, that was why they tried to make friends with her. Nobody wanted to be friends just for friends' sake. It was ridiculous to even contemplate such a thing.

The sudden racket of a sputtering engine interrupted Bella's musings, and she craned her neck so she could see the driveway. A giant rusty orange-red behemoth of an old truck rolled slowly to a stop, and Bella could do nothing but stare as Charlie Swan, the man introduced to her yesterday as her father, slid out.

It was a monster of a wreck, Bella could see that even from her vantage point. The kind of truck the _barrio_ boys wouldn't even touch to turn into a lowrider. It was loud and slow, and it looked like it was going to fall to pieces at any moment.

Bella instantly fell in love with it.

Not so much with the mustachioed man standing hesitantly beside it.

"Bella!" Esme called, her sweet voice floating up the stairs. "Bella, your father's here to see you!"

Bella sighed. The entire town could probably hear that truck as it passed by, and knew the police chief was here to see her. Still, she stood up and slowly, methodically checked to make sure she had everything she needed, just in case, as she always did when she left a room. Shoes, wallet. Check. She pulled on a hoodie and made her way downstairs, wishing she could lock her door.

Esme was in the foyer, along with a very nervous-looking police chief. He spotted her first and shifted his weight a little, looking even more nervous, if possible. "Isabella," he said, attempting to smile. It didn't work very well.

"Hey." Bella heard the flatness in her own voice but didn't care. If Charlie was her father now, he'd been her father also for all those years she'd never seen or heard from him. There was no point in trying to pretend they were anything to each other but strangers thrown together by inconvenience.

"Bella," Esme said warmly, waving her over with an outstretched arm. Bella walked slowly toward the two, careful not to get too close. She was pretty sure Charlie would keep his distance, but she wasn't as confident about Esme and she didn't want that outstretched arm around her shoulder. "Your father's asked if it's all right to take you out to dinner, and Carlisle and I think it's a good idea."

"I thought I wasn't allowed to go anywhere with him," Bella said warily, eying the man. He was dressed in broken-in jeans and a red and black plaid flannel shirt, over which he wore a black Forks Police jacket. His blunt, honest face was creased from weather rather than age, and his dark hair did not look dyed. He was looking much better than Renee, in fact. But that wasn't a big surprise, what with all the things Renee managed to ingest. It was a wonder people didn't take her for Bella's grandmother, sometimes.

"You aren't permitted at his house without supervision, sweetheart," Esme said. Bella flinched a little at the nickname. She didn't like them, and this woman had no right to call her one. "You can go to dinner with him. It's fine."

So she could go to dinner with him. That didn't mean she wanted to. But Bella couldn't really see any way of getting out of it - not without throwing a tantrum, which she was not prepared to do. There was no point in alienating people that much so soon. She would willingly fight tooth and nail about things that were important to her, but an awkward dinner with Charlie Swan just wasn't in that category. She shrugged lightly, jammed her hands into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, and slid out the door.

The single set of footsteps told her that only Charlie was following. "So..." he said, his voice hesitant, "I hope you like the wheels. Bought it off an old friend for you. He does this as a hobby."

Does what, resurrects car corpses? Bella thought. She liked the truck, she really did, but it was so _sad_ looking. "It's sick," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Sick?" Charlie's face fell. "I know it sounds a little funny, but it's just - "

"No, that's not what I...never mind." Bella sighed and put a hand on the damp hood of the rusty old truck. "It's fine, Charlie. Really."

"Well...okay." He shifted uneasily. "If you're sure."

"Yeah."  
They stood in silence, both looking at the truck so they would not have to look at each other. Charlie scuffed his boot in the gravel and cleared his throat. "Dinner?"

"Sure." Bella went quickly for the passenger's side door, thankful to break the tension. She hoped the truck's radio worked, and when Charlie turned the key she immediately started fiddling with knobs. There was very little to choose from - several country stations, some religious nonsense, and something that sounded suspiciously like a Spanish radio drama. Bella twirled the dial a little more and suddenly the sweet sound of strings filled the truck. She'd found some classical music.

Remembering her brief conversation with Edward the night before, Bella let go of the tuning knob and leaned back.

"You like classical music?" Charlie asked curiously.

Bella shrugged. He'd been in the van last night, hadn't he heard her tell Edward that she didn't know much about classical music?

"Edward Cullen plays the piano real pretty." Charlie turned his attention back to the road as they neared town. "Heard him in the Christmas concert last year. Didn't know the tune, but it was good. Nice." He hesitated. "You play anything?"

"Not really."

"Yeah." Charlie cleared his throat and scratched his stubbly chin. "Not musical myself. Renee used to sing in the shower, though."

"Still does." Bella grimaced. She'd never had the heart to tell her mother that the shrieks of dying squirrels were probably preferable to Renee's singing voice. She was surprised, though, to hear Charlie chuckle at her words. It was a...nice...sound, she decided. Quiet. Unprepossessing.

"Some things never change," he said. A moment later the small smile bled from his face.

There were a hundred questions boiling inside Bella as she studied Charlie Swan out of the corner of her eye. Who was this man who called himself her father? Why had he imposed upon the Cullens to get her out of that group home and up her to Washington so quickly? Why did he want to make it look like he cared, when for so many years he hadn't given her the time of day?

They reached a small diner, which looked like maybe the only restaurant in the tiny town. Gourmet this wasn't, Bella decided as she climbed down from the tall cabin of the truck. She could smell the fryer grease already. Not that she minded unpretentious food, but she worried about their definition of "vegetables." A couple of years ago she'd taken a tour of the American South, and it seemed like every restaurant she visited believed vegetables weren't edible until they'd been boiled for hours in ham juice. Normally she wasn't much for fad diets, but she'd gone directly on a detox plan after that trip. Just the thought of it now made her shiver.

"You cold?" Charlie asked as she fell in step behind him. "Should have a coat on, not just a sweatshirt. Cotton's rotten protection once it gets wet."

"I'm fine," Bella muttered, shrinking behind the bulk of him as he opened the door and they stepped into the diner.

Diners and post offices were the epicenters of small towns, and Bella could feel the eyes of the locals upon her as she followed her father to a booth. These people likely ate here several times a week, and the waitress almost certainly knew their favorite orders. Conversation flowed from table to table as friends and families caught up over their Sunday dinners, but when they caught sight of her the gentle buzz of talk quieted to almost nothing.

"Chief!" the waitress greeted, bringing Charlie a brown beer bottle. "How have you - oh!"

"Fine, fine," Charlie said, shaking off his jacket. "Cora, you remember Isabella? She's coming back to live here again - staying with the Cullens until everything's in order." He spoke almost gruffly, keeping his eyes on the table.

"Isabella!" the waitress looked around Charlie's age, and she gave Bella a wide smile. "I haven't seen you since you were...what? Two? Three?"

"Around that," Charlie agreed, though he still refused to look up. He looked almost as uncomfortable as Bella felt. Serves you right for ignoring me so long, she thought grumpily.

"I'll leave a menu then," the waitress said, pulling one out of her big apron pocket. "Can I get you something to drink, sweetie? A Coke?"

"Just water, thanks," Bella said quietly, gritting her teeth against the embarrassment of being the center of attention.

"You sure? We have Sprite if you're worried about staining your teeth."

"No," Bella said, shaking her head a little and just wishing the woman would go away. "Just water."

"Well, you let me know if you change your mind." Cora's voice turned hesitant, almost a little disappointed. Bella could guess that she was hoping for some more insight into this new development in town, but Bella wasn't biting. There was no way she was getting all buddy-buddy with the town gossips.

"So...Esme says you want to go to school tomorrow." Charlie fiddled with his napkin-wrapped silverware, snapping the little paper seal securing it all in a bundle.

"Yeah." Bella glanced surreptitiously around her. Most of the diner had heard Charlie's explanation for the new face and they'd begun their quiet conversations again, but she still saw plenty of glances her way. Part of her wanted to demand whether they had lives of their own they could attend to, but she withheld the urge. In a small town like this, sadly, her arrival was probably the highlight of the month. Possibly the year.

"Don't want an extra day off?"

"No."

There was silence for a few minutes. Bella glanced the menu over. There seemed to be two dinner salad choices, and one rotating soup each day. Sunday was a predictable chicken noodle, which Bella detested. Nobody could seem to make a good soup where the pasta didn't turn into sticky mush. Well, except for this one Italian place in West Hollywood she'd become addicted to. They had a killer spicy minestrone, but no matter how much she wheedled, their cook refused to share his secret for firm pasta.

"Made a decision yet?" the waitress asked, sliding an overfull glass of ice water across the table toward Bella. "You used to love the fried macaroni and cheese," she added hopefully.

Bella made a face; she couldn't help it.

"Not a pasta fan anymore?" Charlie was still fiddling with his silverware. "You used to love macaroni any way you could get it. Your favorite thing was to wrap noodles up in a big lettuce leaf and eat it like a burrito."

The jolt of memory was powerful when it hit, and Bella could only stare. She _had_ used to eat pasta like that, but she'd forgotten. Yet Charlie had remembered.

"No macaroni, thanks," she managed to tell the waitress, though she kept her eyes trained on Charlie. "Spinach salad with feta, vinaigrette dressing on the side."

Cora's little sigh told Bella that she was less than pleased with this rabbity choice of food, but she did not actually complain. "How about you, chief? The usual steak, or the Sunday meatloaf?"

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes," Charlie said. "It is Sunday, after all."

The waitress left, and Bella traced an idle finger down the condensation on her glass of water. "Too much red meat'll clog up your arteries," she said softly.

"I'm as healthy as a horse." Charlie cleared his throat. "Guess Arizona's a health food place though, huh?"

Bella shrugged. "Some parts of it, I guess. I spend a lot of time in L.A., though. Got used to eating there."

"You said something like that last night, too. Mind telling me what you were doing in California? It's kind of a drive from Phoenix, isn't it?"

"Six hours or so. Not too bad." She hadn't answered the main part of his question, but she didn't think he'd try to ask it again. Not now when they were still strangers. She'd have to tell him eventually, she supposed, but she wanted to put it off as long as possible. She hated telling people, hated when they found out. It made things even more uncomfortable for her. She didn't like being singled out, didn't like her secrets known. This was a new start in a new town where no one knew her. All too soon that would change, and for the moment Bella wanted to bask in this feeling of anonymity. Once it was gone, it would never be hers again.

* * *

_A/N: I think I promised we'd see Bella in school in this chapter, but I just didn't get there. Next one, I swear!_

_If you got two update notices, no worries, I was just fixing the name of the waitress. Thanks, gina!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Huge apologies to people who have been patiently waiting for this update! Especially to **Hev99**, whom I told WEEKS ago that it was done. Of course, that was before yet more rewrites. I lost track of the number of rewrites I did on this chapter, and I'm still not happy about the school scenes; I just couldn't get them to come alive. Grr. But I didn't want to leave y'all hanging any longer, so bear with me. I may well revise it yet again after posting._

_As promised, we have the big reveal of Bella's secret...well, part of it anyway! All standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

**Lullaby**

Four a.m. Edward lay on his white chaise, listening to the sounds of Bella trying to be quiet as she dressed and readied herself for school. Classes started at seven-thirty; there was absolutely no reason for her to be up this early. None that he could think of, anyway. She'd slept a total of three hours, if the sounds from her room were anything to go by. Edward didn't know whether she'd made it to the bed this time or had crawled under it again. He had not crept into her room to check, and he could not read her mind.

Nor could he read Esme's thoughts concerning the girl, and it was driving him mad. She had come back from her visit to the psychiatrist very agitated, according to Jasper, but she had immediately forbidden Edward from looking into her head for the cause. It was next to impossible for him, when his mother was constantly ruminating about whatever-it-was. But he did his best. He knew without a doubt that her thoughts were centered on Bella, and that she was troubled. Surprised and troubled. That much he and Jasper could tell without digging, and Edward knew Jasper was worried - not so much about Bella, but about Esme. Edward supposed that should be his first reaction, too, but it wasn't.

More and more, he found his own thoughts drifting back to the newest member of their household. She was a bundle of contradictions, and he still had no answers. Why was she so adamant about not being touched? Why had she crept downstairs yesterday morning before the sun, intent on cleaning the house? He'd lingered in the hallway where Bella could not see him and listened to Esme try to talk to her, but answers were not forthcoming. And it still didn't explain his curiosity, either.

He didn't like humans. He didn't dislike them as Rosalie did, but he found them...dull. There was little point in making connections when he and his family were just going to move away again anyway. This curious little dark-haired beauty was no different, he tried to tell himself. Once the courts sorted everything out she would go to live with her father. Edward would see her now and then in school for another year or two, and then she would vanish from his life. She would get a job - perhaps marry and have children - and grow old. Eventually, she would die.

Edward would do none of these things. So why were his thoughts suddenly turning traitor?

He heard her door open, but he made no move as he listened to her careful footsteps maneuver along the hallway and down the stairs. She did not pause in the kitchen, but went straight to the front door and exited the house. A minute later the terrifying roar of her ancient truck filled Edward's ears, and he winced. Even from three stories up, that monster of an automobile was horrifyingly loud.

Once it was clear she had left for good, Edward stood and left his room. He paused in the hallway, very sure he had no business snooping around in the girl's room. Still, he found his hand on the doorknob, and then his head peered into the darkness behind the door.

The room was full of her soft human scent, and he breathed it in wonderingly. She smelled sweeter than summer fruit, brighter than sunshine on new grass, but her wariness left a faint, bitter undercurrent even in her smell. He flicked on the light.

The room was immaculate, and it hardly looked like anyone lived there. The purple comforter was back on the bed with barely a wrinkle to show that it had ever been disturbed. The roll-top desk had been opened and a small laptop sat next to a pad of green Post-It notes and a ball-point pen. Bella's suitcases were under the bed, and Edward noted as he opened her closet that she had not unpacked her clothes. Yesterday's dirty things were tossed in a small pile on the closet floor, but that was the only real sign that a person actually lived here.

"I wonder why she didn't unpack," Alice mused from behind him.

Edward wanted to scowl. He had not meant to be found out as he perused Bella's room, but he supposed trying to keep anything from Alice was futile.

"Has Esme told you anything about what the psychiatrist in Port Angeles said?"

Edward shook his head. Alice knew perfectly well that Esme hadn't said anything. She was just hoping he'd heard it mentally.

"I really want her to like it here," Alice said, leaning against a white wall. "I wish I knew what to do, but when I try to look into her future all I see is a jumble of strange images."

"Why is that, do you think?" Edward asked, only halfway paying attention to his sister's musings as he perused Bella's room. At least her things were here. He hadn't really thought she was running away - the sounds hadn't been right for that - but it was comforting to see her things here and know that she was planning to come back.

Alice shrugged. "I'm not blocked; my sight doesn't feel like this with the wolves. I do know some things."

"Like what?"

"Like that something's going to happen today at school," Alice said, scrutinizing her manicure as she spoke. "What do you think of grey polish, Edward? A dark slate grey?"

"You're the fashion expert," Edward muttered, wrinkling his nose. He hated being asked things like that almost as much as he hated shopping. "What's going to happen at school?"

"Something to do with Bella. Don't worry, you'll be there. I don't want to be too specific and ruin your intrinsic response when it happens."

"Alice," Edward said warningly. He didn't like being played like this, and she knew it.

"Just trust me, Edward," she said, smiling brightly.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, only half joking. She had blocked him firmly from her mind, which he hated.

Alice grinned cheerfully. "Nope!" She skipped from the room, calling back to him, "You have a pop quiz in math today, by the way! You're welcome!"

"Thanks," Edward muttered, rolling his eyes internally at his sister's antics. She knew something about Bella she wasn't telling, but she didn't know as much as Esme did. He was fairly sure of that much. Shaking himself free of dark thoughts, he went to ready himself for school. It was early still, but he had nothing better to do. And if something was going to happen today with Bella, he wanted to be as ready as possible.

* * *

First day at a new school. Bella grimaced as she pulled her truck into the parking lot. She'd spent the early morning driving slowly around the town as it awoke to another wet, dreary day, learning her way around and trying to get her bearings. If this was going to be her new home for the foreseeable future, she wanted to at least be able to function in it.

Not that finding her way around Forks ended up being difficult. The town was tiny, and she had the place memorized well before school was supposed to start. She'd even driven by Charlie's house, just to see. His police cruiser was nowhere to be seen, so she figured he must be at work already. Her new truck couldn't manage speeds that were likely to get her in trouble, but she kept her eyes out for police vehicles anyway as she drove. How embarrassing would it be to be pulled over by her father or one of his co-workers?

The house had looked...she didn't know. Nondescript. Not bad, per se. It didn't spark any memories, just as Charlie had not. It unnerved Bella slightly, knowing that she had spent three years of her life in that house and she remembered nothing about it. Oh, she knew babies didn't retain memories; she wasn't stupid. But it felt like _something_ should happen when she looked at the house that had been her home for the first years of her life, and the man who had once been a father to her. Who would be a father again, it seemed, if the courts did not grant her permission to live on her own. She'd scowled at the dirty white planking on the old two-story house. Why was this so difficult? It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to stay with a foster family until her court date, then convince the judge that she was more than capable of living on her own. She had her own money socked away, money she had earned free and clear. She had taken care of Renee for most of her life; she was more than capable of living as an emancipated minor.

Now she sat in the school parking lot, the old engine clicking and popping as it cooled in the chilly morning air. Bella shivered in her sweatshirt, feeling an odd kinship with the beat-up hunk of metal. She didn't have a coat - hadn't needed one in either Phoenix or L.A. - and she was definitely feeling cold even in the cab of her truck. The damp air seemed to creep under the hems of her clothing, leaving her shivering. She clutched a paper cup of coffee in her hands, willing it to warm her. Thankfully she'd found a drive-through coffee stand during her perusal of the town, and now she clung to the beverage more for warmth than for caffeine.

But time was pressing forward, and Bella glanced at the clock display on her phone one more time with a sigh. She needed to get inside the building so she could grab her schedule before classes started. Though she wasn't looking forward to this, she set her phone to vibrate and then tucked it into the front pouch of her orange backpack. She awkwardly juggled the bag, coffee, and heavy door of the truck as she hopped out. Her right foot hit the pavement just fine, but her left foot in her worn-out Converse slipped on the wet blacktop and she felt herself begin to fall.

Before she could react, a cold pair of hands grabbed her elbows and held her steady. Bella hissed as her coffee sloshed and a little spilled from the hole in the lid. It splashed against the pale skin of her thumb, burning her hand.

Instantly one cold hand released her elbow and took the drink unceremoniously from her grasp, then returned to press firmly against the burn. The sting faded, but a strange tingle ran along her hand and up her arm, buzzing pleasantly. Her backpack fell unnoticed from her other hand, and she looked up into the dark golden eyes of the ungodly beautiful Cullen boy. All thoughts of removing herself from the unknown grip faded.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously, slowly removing his hands. She couldn't place his expression. He looked...confused? Perplexed? But there was something else there, something that wanted to be guarded but wasn't quite. She opened her mouth to brush off his concern with a quick quip about her overall lack of coordination, but before the words could come out she got a whiff of him and froze.

Honey. The man smelled, almost indecently, of honey. She narrowed her eyes.

"You were in my room," she said, doing her best to glare at his pretty face.

The boy looked thoroughly taken aback, as well he should. Bella felt a small spark of satisfaction uncurl in her belly at his astounded expression. "How did you...?"

"I could smell you," she said, still glaring. "Just leave me the fuck alone, pretty boy. Got it? I don't care what the hell you think you were doing; I don't want any part of it."

"But - "

"Leave. Me. _Alone_." Bella grabbed her backpack and slammed the door of her truck, abandoning her coffee to the strange Cullen boy. Fuck it; she could get more later.

Trying not to think about the confrontation she'd just had, Bella kept her head down and hustled into the school building. Forks High was just one moderately-sized old brick building, where the last high school she'd attended in Phoenix had been a sprawling campus almost the size of a community college. Bella could feel the questioning stares of the other students, but she didn't bother to look up as she obtained her schedule and hustled to her first class. It wasn't hard to find. Rooms were clearly numbered in this place, and she easily located her new math class. Math this early in the day would be brutal, she thought, but she held her peace as she was given a textbook and motioned to an empty seat.

"Bella!" a chipper voice called. "Bella, over here!"

God, not now. Bella recognized Tinkerbell's voice before she turned her head, and she groaned inwardly when she saw the smallest Cullen slip into the seat next to her.

"Bella, are you okay? I saw you almost fall in the parking lot. Good thing Edward was standing right there, huh?"

Edward. So that was the Cullen boy's name. She was sure she'd heard it before, but it hadn't seemed important at the time.

Also, now that Alice mentioned it, Bella was quite sure he _hadn't_ been standing near her. No one had. She narrowed her eyes at the tiny Cullen girl, but said nothing. Their secrets were their secrets. God knew she had enough of her own. She didn't need someone else's to deal with.

"I'm sorry if I seem a little pushy, Bella. You can tell me to can it if you want - I won't be upset. Not too upset, anyway! Rosalie tells me to hush all the time."

Bella remembered that Rosalie was the perfect blonde who looked like she had a stick permanently wedged up her ass. She could completely believe that girl would shut Tinkerbell up.

"Anyway," Alice went on, dropping her voice conspiratorially, "here's the run-down of the school. You'll have most of the other juniors in your classes, and maybe some sophomores and seniors, too, since this is a really small campus. You'll be seeing a lot of Edward and I, but not so much of the others. They're all seniors." She glanced around the room before turning back to Bella. "The clique of girls up near the front with way too much makeup? Watch out for them, okay? They're petty and mean - harmless, but you'll be their top target for a number of reasons."

"Like what?" Bella found herself asking before she could stop the words. She hadn't meant to give this girl another reason to keep talking...but almost in spite of herself, she found herself warming to the strange pixie. Alice was loud and energetic, but she was also sincere. Sincerity went a hell of a long way in Bella's book.

"You're new, and even without makeup you're ten times prettier than they'll ever be. The guys are already drooling all over you, which makes you fair game as far as those bitches are concerned." Alice paused and glanced around again. "Plus, you're staying with us. Our family kind of keeps to ourselves, you know? Everyone tries to be our friend just because we've got money and whatever. We don't like that kind of shallowness, so we don't socialize much. But I already know you're not like that, and I'm so happy to have a new friend! The other girls won't be pleased, though, and I wanted to warn you."

Thankfully, the teacher called the class to order then and Bella didn't have to answer. She stared at the board, pretending to pay attention to the lecture about the quadratic equation as she turned Alice's words over and over in her head. Tinkerbell wanted to be her friend? When she and her family weren't friends with anyone else in the school? Bella's first instinct was to mistrust the Cullen girl's words. She didn't know anything about Bella, so why should she want to be friends? People didn't _do_ that; they didn't just walk up to someone and decide to be buddies.

But Alice did. Despite her reluctance to trust people, Bella could sense Alice's sincerity. She just didn't understand it.

The bell rang, releasing them from class, and Alice called a quick "Bye!" in Bella's direction before skipping off down another hallway. Bella shook her head inwardly, marveling at the strange, upbeat creature. She caught sight of the girls Alice had warned her about, and she had no doubt that the warning had been real. They were glaring at her with unconcealed resentment. Bella tried to shrug it off. She'd seen far worse; these small-town girls were nothing comparatively.

The morning dragged on - Bella found Alice's predictions about the student body eerily spot-on. The boys tripped over themselves to sit near her or offer assistance, no matter how carefully she schooled her expression to try to keep them away. The girls were not openly hostile, but they weren't friendly, either. The clique Alice had warned her about was the worst; Bella had their ringleader, a girl called Lauren, in all of her morning classes.

"Stay away from Edward Cullen," the girl hissed once, when Bella inadvertently sat near her during history. "I don't care who your orphaned ass is living with - he hasn't hooked up with anyone at this school yet, and if he does, it's gonna be _me_."

Bella didn't dignify the petty threat with an answer. She had no doubt that the girls here likely fawned over Pretty Boy Cullen, but she wasn't feeling at all like joining them. He'd been in her room her first night at the Cullen house, and that was just about unforgivable in her book. It might be his house, but that didn't give him the right to waltz in on her when she was sleeping. What was he doing, anyway? He hadn't disturbed her, and she knew full well that none of her belongings were missing. So what on earth had he wanted?

At lunch time, Bella retreated to her truck to think and hide. She had no wish to enter the cafeteria and be stared at like some performing animal. Instead, she turned on the engine and let the truck idle for a few minutes while she blasted the heater, trying to will some warmth into her hands. The school board was clearly trying to save money; the building was almost as cold as the air outside. She shivered, already missing the dry, baking heat of her desert home. Alice had said she'd love this place once she got a good look at it. Well, she'd had a look. And while she didn't want to go back to Renee, she missed the familiarity of home. Everything here was so strange and different, even the people. Charlie and the Cullens were nothing like she expected. Only the kids at school were normal - she didn't like them, and they didn't like her.

Edward had been in two of her three morning classes, but he hadn't said anything to her. She was glad - she wasn't sure she could talk to him right now without punching him in his pretty face. In all honesty, she was a little disappointed to find out that he'd been in her room. Before this, he'd seemed like a reasonable person to live next to. He made little noise, didn't ask prying questions like Alice, and didn't sneer like Rosalie. But the fact that he'd callously invaded her privacy made her see red. If there was a lock on her door, she would have engaged it. She considered stopping off at the hardware store after school today and buying one she could easily install - a sliding bolt or a chain. Something to keep people out while she slept. Edward Cullen had no business in her room at night, even if he was the prettiest boy she'd ever seen and he smelled like honey.

Bella's first class after lunch was biology. Just her luck, the teacher made her share a lab table with none other than Edward Cullen. She scowled at him, and he scowled back. Strangely, it made her feel a tiny bit better. She set herself to ignoring him for the rest of the period.

Edward, apparently, had other ideas. "Look," he said as soon as they were told to work on an assignment in pairs, "I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to see if you were all right. You're so quiet in there, I can barely hear you."

Bella said nothing as she concentrated studiously on her worksheet.

"What, are you ignoring me now? That's real mature." He let out a breath and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, tugging slightly.

"I," Bella said calmly, still not looking at him, "have been informed to keep away from you."

"Oh?" Edward raised an eyebrow. "By whom?"

"Lauren Mallory. She was quite emphatic."

Edward's snort spoke volumes. "Tramp," he muttered.

Bella felt her bad mood begin to lift, and she didn't know why unless it was true that misery did, in fact, love company. Perhaps provoking Edward Cullen made her feel somewhat better about her own day? She glanced sideways at him. He was bent over his paper, absently filling out answers. It looked like he wasn't even thinking about what he wrote down. "Lauren would really like you to tap that," she added, unable to help herself. Goading Edward turned out to be quite the amusing pastime.

Edward grimaced, looking more pained than she had ever seen. "_Please_ don't say things like that to me," he begged. "I'll have nightmares." Then he glanced at her, and there was a wicked gleam in his golden eyes.

Bella couldn't hide the smile that stole across her face. He was teasing her, and she kind of...liked it. How odd. How very...unexpected.

They didn't talk for the rest of the class period, though the silence was now less strained. Bella finished her worksheet quickly and raised her head, glancing around the room. She saw several people hurriedly avert their eyes, which she more or less expected. Other students had been staring at her all day. It was only to be expected in a new school, she supposed, but it unnerved her just the same. She didn't like the attention, nor did she enjoy the scrutiny. All she wanted was to be a normal kid in a normal school for a while. Was that really so much to ask?

Clearly it was. Bella turned her head again and found a dark-haired boy named Eric watching her with an unnerving amount of focus. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he studied her. She wanted to snap at him, but that would only draw more attention. Nerves bloomed in her stomach and furrowed through her body, leaving her shaky. Any one of these students could ruin everything with a single sentence - maybe even a single word. She grit her teeth and forced her body to remain still. If it was going to happen, there was nothing she could do about it. The best thing right now was to keep quiet, to try not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

It was a foregone conclusion, though. When the final bell of the day rang, Bella left her classroom and entered the swarm of students heading for their lockers and the exits. She had just turned down a hallway when she heard it: the voice of Eric Yorkie.

"I know you!" he said, his youthful voice raised in excitement. "Holy shit, I know you! You were on TV when I was a kid!"

Utter silence descended on the hallway.

Bella dropped her head. She knew this anonymous shit was too good to last, but she hadn't expected it to end quite this soon. Not on her first day at school. Not like this.

"Lady Claire!" Yorkie continued, plowing on despite Bella's complete lack of enthusiasm. "You were Lady Claire - my sister _worshiped_ you for years, practically! Wait till I tell her! What are you doing in Forks, of all places?"

Bella scowled as the crowd pressed in close to her, the first hesitant questions flowing from person to person. Phones came out to snap pictures. She tensed, unable to deny Yorkie's accusations, ready to bolt.

"What's going on? Bella?"

Cold hands grasped her waist, fingers hooking through the belt loops of her jeans and drawing her backward. Bella recognized the voice and let herself be pulled, landing softly against a firm male chest. Edward Cullen still smelled like honey - like midsummer sunshine distilled into a gleaming liquid essence - and she breathed deeply. It calmed her, and she stilled against him. She hated being touched, but she didn't want to make a scene in the middle of this crowd.

"If it was you, Yorkie," Edward said, his dark velvet voice sounding near her ear, "would you want to be called out in front of everyone? Have a little sense, idiot."

Eric paled, and Bella watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. He had every right to be nervous, she thought. Edward easily had five inches and fifty pounds on him, and Emmett was even bigger.

"B-but I just wanted..." Eric swallowed again. "Can I have your autograph?"

"No," Edward said firmly, and though Bella had never in her life wanted anyone to speak for her, she let him. This once. She could only stand, amazed, and feel the cold firmness of his chest against her back, hear the smooth cadence of his voice. No one had ever stood up for her like that. No one had ever had her back. Now Edward Cullen did - literally. She didn't know what to think. "Bella? Let's go. Esme's waiting for us at home."

He slid smoothly out from behind her, keeping an arm around her waist and his thumb hooked through her belt loop. Bella managed to move with him, walking down the silent hall and toward the exit. She saw rain through the glass doors, but it was suddenly very welcome. Rain meant outdoors, and outdoors meant freedom.

Edward didn't release her until they were outside the building, their hair pelted by the heavy precipitation. "I'm sorry," he said quickly as he removed his hand. "I know you don't like to be touched. I was just - "

Bella looked up at him. The worry in his troubled face was strangely touching. "It's okay," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks flame. "Thanks for...that."

"You looked like Yorkie back there was your executioner," Edward said, leading her toward her truck. "I had to do something."

"I appreciate it. Really."

They were silent for a moment. Bella wrestled her keys out of her bag and unlocked her truck when they reached it.

"Are you okay to drive?" Edward asked, watching her trembling hand fumble to put the key in the lock.

"I'm fine." Bella felt a flicker of annoyance surge up again. Just because he'd pulled her out of arguably one of her worst nightmares didn't mean she needed him hovering.

"Can...would it be possible to get a ride home with you?" Edward looked nervous, shifting a little from foot to foot. "Alice swiped my car."

Bella sighed. As she motioned for him to get in, she had a sinking suspicion that Alice had taken Edward's car on purpose.

But it hardly mattered. Nothing mattered now. Her hopes of anonymity had been crushed on her first day in a new school, and there was nothing she could do about it. Now everyone knew her most important secret; knew who she was - or had been, years ago. There would be strange looks from now on - not just temporary curiosity for the new girl in town, but a permanent divide between herself and the rest of the Forks population. From this moment on, she would never be able to talk to someone here without questioning their motive. She would never be able to accept friendship without wondering just what the other person wanted with her. She wasn't suspicious and untrusting by nature; experience had made her this way. Not that it mattered.

She drove in silence for a while, her head muttering at her that she should have expected this - should have planned for this eventuality. But somehow, she'd had hope. Stupid, foolish hope that in this town miles from anywhere important...things might be different.

"Just so you know," Edward said, his voice cautious in the silent cab of the truck, "I have no idea what Yorkie was talking about back there."

Bella scowled. She'd almost forgotten he was there, but once she heard his voice she became acutely aware of his presence - his honey scent, and the way he rode perfectly still in the truck, his arm propped against the window.

And it had started now: the people trying to prove something to her, trying to earn her friendship any way they could. She was so tired of it all. She stared straight ahead and did not answer him.

"I'm serious," Edward continued when she didn't speak. "We never watched TV as kids - none of us. I get that he accused you of being on a TV show, but I've never seen it and neither have my siblings as far as I know." His near hand moved toward her as if to touch her cheek, but he hesitated and dropped his outstretched fingers before they could reach her skin as if remembering her dislike of touch. Instead, he curled his index finger through a belt loop on the side of her jeans again and tugged twice, very gently, before releasing it.

It was such a strange gesture that Bella didn't know what to think. Edward threw her mind and emotions into chaos. He had completely disregarded her dislike of being touched on more than one occasion - first in the parking lot, then later while diffusing the crowd gathered around Bella and Eric. But both occasions had been...not emergencies, perhaps, but unusual circumstances, certainly. Now that there was no urgency, he respected her wish and had not placed his fingers against her skin. The sideways tug on her belt loop was an odd sort of compromise, and yet it felt almost...almost comfortable, Bella thought. Just a gentle pressure against her hip - that was all. It was intimate without being sexual; it spoke of familiarity. Familiarity they didn't have, and yet...and yet...

Bella swallowed nervously. She didn't have an answer to the "and yet".

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I'm bad company, and I know it. Thanks for sticking up for me in there. Nobody's ever...fuck." She sighed, irritated with herself rather than him. It was so difficult to find words, sometimes.

"Don't apologize." Edward's voice was soft, dark velvet. She liked it a great deal. It enveloped her with an almost tangible warmth. "What happened back there wasn't your fault. Who knew Yorkie was smart enough to put two and two together like that?"

Bella glanced at him sideways. "I thought Eric was the smart one and Mike was the dunce?"

Edward made a face. "They're both dunces in my book."

"Alice said you - all of you - don't socialize much outside your family." It wasn't quite a question, but it invited an answer or clarification. Bella took a deep breath, inhaling the summer scent of honey. It warmed something inside her, and she realized that she was calming down quickly from the end-of-school scare. Though worry still beat inside her, the caterpillars trying to crawl up her esophagus no longer felt so immediate. She was able to swallow them back down. Talking about the Cullens rather than herself definitely helped.

"Would you, given the choice?" One side of his mouth lifted in a sarcastic little smirk.

Fuck me, Bella thought, that was hot. Not just pretty, but definitely sexy.

"There are many things I'd do, given the choice," Bella said, trying to keep her eyes studiously on the road. "Becoming BFFs with the Forks High School student body isn't one of them."

"My thoughts exactly."

They rode in silence a little longer.

"Alice wants to be your friend," Edward observed after a while. His voice was carefully schooled, giving nothing away.

"I gathered." Bella glanced at him again. "What I can't understand is why."

"She gets these...ideas," Edward said, as if searching for the right words. "When it happens, nobody can convince her otherwise or dissuade her. She's convinced you're the lost best friend she's been waiting for."

Bella digested that fact in silence for a moment. "What do you think about that?" she asked finally. It seemed like a safe answer that would keep Edward talking in that warm velvet voice she was quickly starting to like.

"I think..." Edward paused. "I think I have to ask you not to hurt her."

Bella looked at him again. His eyes were cautiously gentle; there was no hint of suspicion in them.

"My family are the black sheep of the town of Forks," Edward continued. "Well, I'm the black sheep of my family. Alice is my closest sibling, and she means a lot to me. I'm not going to order you to play along, or tell you to leave her alone. All I'm asking is that you don't hurt her, no matter what you choose to do. Behind that manic exterior she's actually a very delicate person, and it kills me to see her hurt."

"That's...sweet." Bella didn't quite know what to say. The thought of hurting Alice Cullen - leading her on or cutting her down - had never even crossed her mind. Bella wasn't the friendliest of people, and she understood that about herself. But she wasn't deliberately unkind, either. Not to her knowledge, anyway. Edward's warning didn't bother her, though, which she found a little odd. Rather, it touched her that he felt such concern about his sister.

"Can I confess something to you?" Edward asked hesitantly.

"Confess away," Bella said easily. "I'm good with secrets."

Edward's mocking smile flashed across his mouth again. "I bet you are." He paused. "I don't want you to freak out or anything, okay?"

"I don't tend to."

"My siblings and I were in Los Angeles over a month ago, taking a little break from school."

"How lucky for you," Bella murmured. She had no idea where he was going with this.

"We saw you," Edward admitted. "Of course, we didn't know it was you at the time. But we saw you. At the Willow Bar."

Bella froze.

"I've never seen you on TV, Bella, and I'm 99.9% positive that no one else in my family has, either. But we did see you at the bar one night. I'm trying to be as honest as possible here, so you'll understand that you can trust us." He sighed and tugged at his hair again; Bella saw the motion out of the corner of her eye. "You were so beautiful," he said, and Bella couldn't read his voice. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling and his arm, attached to the hand in his hair, was blocking his face from view. "But you looked so sad. I'm not asking you to tell me what you were doing there. I just wanted you to know."

Bella bit her tongue. Who was this strange boy who said the oddest things? She suddenly wanted to know him - wanted to know enough to confirm that he was, in fact the person he seemed to be. Unbidden, the tactile memory of the gentle tug on her belt loop quivered through her body. She shivered, but not from the omnipresent cold.

Unwilling to offer the explanations he had not demanded, but feeling nonetheless that something needed to be said, Bella finally opened her mouth as they turned into the long driveway. "You're a strange boy, Edward Cullen."

His mouth twisted mockingly. "Yeah," he said. "I get that a lot."

As they pulled up to the house, Bella noticed a car that looked out of place. It was a dark brown-purple PT Cruiser. She wrinkled her nose. "Who drives that?" she asked as she killed the truck's engine and reached for her bag.

Edward's frown was already firmly planted on his face as he followed her out of the truck's cab. "I don't know," he said as they started warily toward the house.

* * *

_A/N: So now we know the gist of Bella's secret, though we don't have details yet. Next chapter she meets her new psychiatrist and we start to get some details about her past._

_For those of you reading ACAP, I THINK we'll have an update this coming week. RL's been terrible lately and I haven't been in the right mindframe to work on that story, but things are getting better. Keep your fingers crossed! Loves to **Milk40** and **wantmoretwilightnow** for their sweet support!_

_Oh, yeah, and check out my newest "fic" entitled Fits and Starts. It's a collection of Twilight fanfiction starts that I want to work on someday when I have time to start something new, but I'm also throwing open to the rest of the fanfic community here in the meantime. I'm excited to see what people come up with!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hi, all. Sorry there was no update for ACAP this week. On top of everything else, I actually slipped in the kitchen and gouged my thumb with a serrated carving knife. I had to get stitches and everything, and it kind of messes with my typing. So until I heal, unfortunately we're looking at shorter chapters and more time in between. But it shouldn't take too long; the doctor said thumbs heal up quite quickly, just a couple of weeks usually._

_All standard disclaimers apply. On with the drama!_

* * *

**Lullaby**

Esme fidgeted nervously with the mug in her hands, hearing the faint sounds of both Edward and Bella as they exited the truck. The rest of the Cullen "kids" had already been sent elsewhere - upstairs or away from the house - so Bella would not have to share this meeting with everyone in her new foster family.

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing, springing this on her?" she asked Peter again, for what must have been the fifth or sixth time that afternoon.

Dr. Concord smiled reassuringly, as he had every other time she'd asked. "Mrs. Cullen, what would she have done, do you think, if instead you had asked her to come with you to Port Angeles to meet me?"

"She would have refused."

Peter nodded in satisfaction. "Very likely. Since she will not go to mecca, mecca must come to her."

Esme lifted one corner of her mouth. "You're quoting something."

"Only the best film Kirk Douglas ever made." ***

The door opened, and Esme rose reflexively. She took a deep, steadying breath, though she did not need the oxygen, and called for her children. "Edward? Bella? Would you come in here, please?" Edward wasn't needed for this confrontation, but she suspected that if she had just called Bella, the girl might not have responded.

Two wary teenage faces appeared in the entrance to the living room, and Esme beckoned them further inside. Edward moved first, as Esme had suspected he might, walking in front of Bella as if shielding her from something.

"We didn't have the greatest day at school," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. He was begging her firmly with his expression and his voice not to do this. But it had to be done. Bella needed someone she could talk to, and Peter was beyond qualified.

Bella's small, pale form slid into the room behind Edward, keeping enough space between them that he could not touch her without taking a step. She moved to the side, her enormous brown eyes flicking back and forth between Esme and Peter, and planted herself firmly in place, as she had done the first night in the airport. The coffee table sat between her and the adults; her position seemed strategically motivated, but Esme didn't know the reason behind it. Why was this girl so wary?

Before Esme could move on with introductions, Bella's suspicious frown turned into a delicate, furious scowl. "You're a shrink," she accused, throwing the word at Peter almost like a curse.

Esme opened her mouth to reprimand Bella, but Peter beat her to it. "Yes, I am a psychiatrist," he said, sounding dryly amused rather than offended. "I'm Dr. Peter Concord. It's quite a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan."

He paused, but Bella said nothing in return and did not move from her defensive stance.

"I hear you're new to the area," Peter pressed on. He settled himself back into the armchair he'd been using before Bella and Edward entered the room. "So am I. Have a seat, please. Maybe we can talk a little about how you're liking the Northwest?"

Bella didn't even glance at the couch. "I don't want a shrink," she said decisively.

"That," Peter replied, "is a world away from not needing one, I'm afraid. But we'll leave that for now. Please sit. I'm actually here to talk about my recent research. I'm writing a book right now that may be of interest to you."

"Shrinks aren't of interest to me."

"It's not about psychiatrists." Peter sipped his tea as if he were perfectly at ease. Esme watched Bella closely. She had not expected this to go particularly well, but she was still unhappy about Bella's attitude toward Peter. She understood it, to a point, but that didn't mean it made her happy. "It's about a subject I think will hit close to home." Peter glanced up at Isabella. "Child stars."

Bella's suspicious scowl turned downright deadly, and she froze in place. "What the fuck is it with this motherfucking place?" she demanded. Esme saw Edward's eyes widen slightly at the fury in Bella's voice, but he did not move. "Some idiot kid recognizes me not half an hour ago, and you've already got the shrinks breathing down my back!"

"Bella."

Edward's voice was soft, and Esme didn't expect Bella to even hear it, let alone listen. But there was a sudden stillness to her posture, a kind of waiting poise, like a deer brought up short in the forest. Edward's hand reached out slowly, his forefinger crooked, and he hooked it gently through her nearest belt loop. He tugged twice, just a soft flexing of his finger, before withdrawing.

The moment stilled. Esme didn't breathe. She could barely hear Peter's breath, too, as they both waited to see Bella's reaction.

When it came, it shocked Esme into remaining still. The tense fight suddenly leaked from Bella's limbs, and she tipped her head slowly in Edward's direction. Her expression was unreadable, and there was no smile on her face, but at least she hadn't tried to attack him or run from the room.

"Bella, there's no reason not to sit and hear what he has to say," Edward said gently. "If he bothers you, I'll kick him out. I promise."

"I can kick my own assholes out," Bella muttered, but when Edward held out a hand she moved toward him. She didn't touch him, didn't take the outstretched hand, but together they moved to the couch and sat down. She kept space between them, but it wasn't as big as before. If he reached out his arm, he could just brush her shoulder.

Bella took a deep breath, then raised her eyes and glared at Esme, who had taken her own seat. "Rules go out the door when you spring shit like this on me," she said, "so I don't want to hear it."

"What rules?" Peter asked mildly, breaking the tense moment as Esme felt her heart quiver. She hadn't meant to hurt the child; truly she hadn't. Bella's glare wasn't as schooled or icy as Rosalie's, but it was a force of its own to contend with. There was a child's fury to it, and a passionate heat that Rose had long since abandoned. The distrust and suspicion in those eyes made guilt bubble in Esme's stomach, and she didn't like the feeling at all.

"No swearing is the pertinent one." Bella glanced at Peter before dropping her eyes to her knees and keeping them there.

"When you're with me, you may speak however you choose," Peter said, his voice as calm and even as ever. "I understand that you're upset, Bella, and I understand why. But that doesn't mean you can break rules with impunity. Esme has nothing but your best interests at heart; you owe her your compliance when I'm not here."

"I owe her and her doctor nothing!" Bella snapped, but there was a quiver in her voice, as if she were trying to will herself to believe it. "I didn't ask to be brought here! I didn't ask for any of this!"

That much was true, and Esme felt her heart constricting painfully as she saw how badly Bella was taking this. She was right. She _hadn't_ asked to be brought here. Carlisle had told them to expect anger - well, here it was. Bella's human fury was bright and hot - Esme could practically feel it leaking off the girl in waves. For the first time, she began to wonder if she was out of her league here. Was the situation with Bella something she could not, as a parent, handle? She'd never had to parent real teenagers before-not human ones, anyway - and Bella's background was so far outside her realm of experience that Esme didn't know what to do. Had it been a mistake to contact Dr. Concord? She'd take it back in a minute, she thought, if it would make that wounded, betrayed look leave the girl's haunted eyes.

There was silence for a moment after Bella's outburst. Esme watched the doctor carefully, wondering whether he'd choose to stay. Bella wasn't technically his patient, after all. Not yet, anyway. Nothing was keeping him here.

But the doctor merely set his tea on the coffee table and leaned forward a little, placing his elbows on his knees. "I'm curious," he said, lacing his fingers together, "about what you want, Bella. You were removed from a crowded, underfunded group facility and brought here, to a lovely home among welcoming people. Your father is anxious to build a relationship with you. While I believe you when you say you didn't ask for any of this, I'm a little confused as to what you would rather have happen. Can you enlighten me, Bella?"

She scowled at her hands, clamped tightly together in her lap, and bit her lower lip. Three breaths passed before she steeled herself and looked up. The heat of anger in her brown eyes had cooled, and while she was still not polite, she did not yell at the doctor either. "My only wish," she said, her voice eerily calm, "is to be left alone. I don't care how pretty this house is; it isn't mine. Charlie never wanted to 'build a relationship' before, and I see no point in pretending now that I'm practically grown. If I had my way, the judge at my custody hearing would grant me emancipated minor status and I'd be free to live my own life."

"Thank you, Bella."

She blinked, showing the same surprise that Esme felt.

Dr. Concord's smile was warm. "For your honesty. They may not be pretty words, but that doesn't matter to me. I'd much rather hear the truth any day." He cocked his head to the side. "I suspect you feel much the same."

Bella said nothing, but her wary gaze stayed upon him and she did not drop her eyes back to her lap. Esme hoped that was a good sign.

"Now that we're all on the same page," Peter continued, "I'd like to tell you a little bit about myself and why I'm here. I'm hoping that we can come to an understanding, Bella." He smiled again and picked his tea back up. "My name is Peter Concord, and I am twenty-eight years old. I completed my undergrad in Pomona, then moved to Portland for a time to complete their MSW program, after which I returned to California. I got my doctorate at Berkeley and have been on faculty there ever since."

"And you're only twenty-eight?" Bella raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

Dr. Concord took no offense. He smiled broadly. "I've always been something of a workaholic."

"So you don't eat, sleep, or have a social life?"

Again the doctor did not seem ruffled by Bella's terse manner. "In fact, I do have something of a social life. My partner and I met in college. But that's beside the point. I've written a number of books and articles on adolescent psychology. My specialty is late adolescence and early adulthood, particularly the difficult and often confusing transition between child and adult. I've written books about other arduous transitions as well, including divorce. At the moment I'm living in Port Angeles, working on my next book. As I said before, it's about child stars, and particularly about how they transition back into the normal world. _If_ they transition back," he amended, his eyes on Bella.

Bella did not comment, but she was watching him still. Esme flicked her eyes back and forth between the two humans in her living room, wondering which would win in the end. They were both very strong-willed people, though they showed it in different ways. Peter was strong and confident in his profession, just as Carlisle was. His force was quiet and understated, where Bella's was young and brash and still very angry.

Edward was watching the girl with an expression Esme found difficult to interpret. He didn't look happy, but then, there was little cause for that. He hadn't left, though, which surprised Esme somewhat. When things displeased Edward, his usual modus operandi was to cut and run. He never cared enough to fight. But he was still here, still watching the delicate girl sitting just within reach of his arm.

The fact that he had been able to calm her earlier still floored Esme. She knew as well as anyone that Bella did not like to be touched, but for some reason the moment Edward slipped his finger through the belt loop on the side of her jeans and tugged gently, she had stilled. Esme ached to know why. It had not been a close-contact kind of touch - he hadn't even come near her skin at all. But the implication was the same. So why had Bella permitted it?

"I'm not very good at beating around the bush," Dr. Concord said, breaking into Esme's thoughts. "I hope you don't mind if I'm blunt." One side of his mouth flickered up for a moment. "I think we can help each other. I need some good inside source material for my book, and there's only so much I can get from interviews where I meet someone once or twice and then never see them again. You need help, too, Bella. I don't know everything that's happened to you, but I know enough. I can help you through this difficult transition period, if you'll let me. Transitions are my specialty." He smiled again, watching Bella carefully. "What do you say, Bella?"

"I don't need any help," Bella snapped, scowling darkly. "You don't know anything about me."

"I don't know anything about you?" Dr. Concord's smile turned sad. "Ah, my dear, that's where you're very, very wrong. I know a great deal _about_ you. Now, if you'd said I didn't know _you_, you'd be quite right. Knowing you and knowing about you are two different things. I don't know you, Isabella Marie Swan, but I do know quite a bit about you."

Bella bristled at her full name and Esme watched in fascination as Edward tensed, his muscles tightening and his body moving slightly toward the man in the chair as if to protect her. But Dr. Concord spoke again, and everyone's attention was caught.

"Little is known about your first years here in Forks, but after your parents' divorce, you moved to Phoenix with your mother Renee. She has been your primary caregiver ever since."

"You told!" Bella snapped, turning to Esme, her eyes blazing again. "What right did you have to share that information with him? You're not my mother!"

Before Esme could open her mouth, Peter held out an arm. He was not close enough to touch Bella, but the movement caught her eye and she snapped her head toward him again, suspicion and anger mixing in the darkness of her eyes.

"Bella, she didn't need to tell me any of that," he said. "It's common knowledge. You know as well as anyone that an actor's life isn't private. You're probably too young to know about the trainwreck that is the Culkin family, but there are countless other examples from which to choose if you want proof of that." He paused. "I know more, too. I know that your grandmother took you on a weekend trip to Los Angeles when you were four years old, and that was where you had a chance encounter with a producer who liked your voice. You started doing voiceover work for cartoons that same year."

The fight had leaked out of Bella again, and she stared at the floor. Esme didn't expect her to say anything, but she did. "The minute Renee got a look at that producer's business card, we were on the road back to L.A." Bella's voice was stony and cold, and she refused to look up. "It's a long drive, especially when you're little. I always hated it, but Renee didn't want to move."

"You were given your own show when you were seven," Dr. Concord said gently. His words didn't sound like a continuation of Bella's admission, but the tone did. "It started out as a cartoon, just like the ones you did voiceovers for."

Bella nodded slowly. "But the ratings were so good that they decided to try a live-action version."

Dr. Concord also nodded. "And so Lady Claire and the Hair Care Posse was born."

Bella snorted. "It sounds so stupid now, but for four years that was my life. Between voicing the animated show and doing the live-action, there was never time for anything else. Renee and I lived in cheap hotel rooms during the week and went home to Phoenix on weekends. After the first few months, she got so unbearable that the directors all refused to let her on set. The network hired a babysitter for me instead, and Renee started spending more and more time in Phoenix instead of L.A. By the time I was eight, I was more or less living in my trailer on the studio lot. I couldn't ride the bus or train - people knew my face, and it wasn't safe - so Renee arranged a driver to take me back and forth from work to Phoenix every week." She scowled. "Once 'we' could afford to hire someone else, she refused to do it herself."

"I'm sorry about that, Bella," Dr. Concord said quietly. "I really am. It sounds like we might have a lot to talk about together, you and me."

Bella looked up again, and Esme hated how tired she looked. The fight had completely gone out of her, and she looked merely exhausted and resigned. "Do I really have a choice?"

"There's always a choice," Peter said quietly. "I will continue to come talk to you. It's your choice, though, about talking back. No one can make you, when it comes down to it. No one can force you to open your mouth and say a word if you don't want to."

Bella scowled, but it lacked her previous fury. "I didn't want to sit down and listen to you, either."

Dr. Concord's smile was gentle. "I'm well aware that a part of you didn't. But there must also be a part of you that did, or else you would not have done so. No foster-brother's advice, no matter how reasonable, could have done that."

The girl's scowl deepened. "He's _not_ my brother."

Dr. Concord did not argue the point. "Friend, then, shall we say? Whatever he is to you, you listened to him and you let him stay."

Bella's head whipped around, and it seemed as if she was only now aware that Edward had remained at her side through the entire interview. She looked him up and down before frowning again and jumping up, abandoning her seat on the couch and abruptly leaving the room.

Esme sighed and dropped her head, feeling suddenly as weary as Bella looked. "I'm so sorry, Peter," she said quietly. "I'm afraid that could have gone a lot better.

"All in all," he replied, smiling gently, "I think it could have gone a lot worse, actually. She's so frightened, Esme. Give her some time. I have a feeling that she and I won't have a very typical doctor/patient relationship. She's too raw right now to be polite, and I can understand that. I don't mind being her dumping ground, if that's what she needs."

"What she said about her father..." Esme shook her head. "It kills me, Peter. That man adores his little girl, and she doesn't even know it."

"We'll get there," he assured her. "I don't think her father's the place to start, though. With him back in her life so suddenly, it's a sensitive issue right now. We'll start with Renee and her work in L.A., then go from there."

"Speaking of which, 'Lady Claire and the Hair Care Posse'?" Esme wrinkled her nose.

Dr. Concord chuckled. "Come on, if you think about it, is it any more ridiculous than Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Kids will watch just about anything you put in front of them." He sighed and rose. "I think we'll call it a day. She really did much better than I expected. Don't lose hope, Esme. She'll come around. She's not a bad kid, she just needs some help finding her way."

* * *

_A/N: Yes, the name of Bella's show is stupid, but as Peter said, it's not any worse than some of the other ridiculous names people have come up with for kids' shows. Lady Claire is loosely based on a short-lived '80's cartoon called "Lady Lovely Locks" who bestowed magic on the world through strategically-tossed hair. I kid you not. There are episodes on YouTube, but don't say you weren't warned!_

_***If you can tell me what movie this is from, I'll write you a oneshot of your very own, or a new chapter to one of the story starts in Fits and Starts, or post the alternate ending to Midnight Carnival, whatever you choose! (and yes, I checked this time, and the answer is NOT google-able!) First correct guess only!_


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